


FATE & FORTUNE

by The_Fifth_Marauder



Series: We Two Are One [2]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Action, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drama, F/F, Minor Character Death, Murder, Romance, Sequel, Thriller, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-10-25 05:22:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20718788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fifth_Marauder/pseuds/The_Fifth_Marauder
Summary: "Do you remember that old Christmas tune, ‘Santa Claus is coming to Town’? I'll start, but feel free to join in, anytime."He's made a list,He's checked it twice,He's nearly eliminated the naughty and nice.Then Krampus will be hunting you down.***It's Christmas time and instead of getting into the festive spirit, Franky and Erica are drawn into a deadly game of Fortune Teller, where the wrong choice, will cost them and their loved ones, dearly.***  Sequel to 'Living on the Edge'.  ***





	1. Saint Nicholas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Fate & Fortune is the sequel to Living on the Edge, set ten weeks later. If you haven't read the first story, it’s strongly advisable to do so given certain storylines and characters have been established.
> 
> To the rest of you, welcome back and thanks for your patience. As Franky would probably say, “Sit the fuck down and buckle up for an action-packed ride!”

He followed her into the supermarket, close enough to see her, yet keeping his distance so she wouldn’t feel as if she were being stalked. 

_Bloody women’s intuition. It’s only stalking if you get caught, isn’t it?_

He admired her voluptuous curves as she reached for a jar of Vegemite off the shelf and placed it in the trolley; mentally scolding himself for nearly letting his manhood get the better of him. 

_Focus! You have a job to do. There’s plenty of time to be a man, later!_

He took a chance and stood directly behind her in the checkout line, watching with keen interest as she paid for her items. He even offered her a warm smile when their eyes met for the briefest of time, and she smiled in return, before gathering her shopping bags and walking out to the carpark. As she neared her car, a bag broke, with an assortment of items falling to the ground, and he heard her curse under her breath as she bent down to gather up the groceries and place them in one of the other undamaged bags. In all the commotion, she didn’t notice that she had dropped her car keys on the ground. 

_The carpark is deserted. It’s now or never._

He rushed over and picked up her keys. “Excuse me, Miss?”

She turned around hesitantly, at being summoned by an unfamiliar voice.

He gave her another sincere smile. “I believe these are yours?”

“Thank you so very much! I wouldn’t have got far without those!” He walked over to her and placed the keys into the palm of her soft hand. Her blue eyes met with his own once more, but for longer this time. “You look vaguely familiar, have we met?”

_Quick, lie before she becomes suspicious!_ “I’ve been shopping here for the last couple of years.” 

“That must be it, then.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, wrapping his fingers around his trusty garrote. The thin, flexible coil of piano wire made of high-carbon steel with short wooden handles attached either end, was his weapon of choice due to it leaving no mess. But mostly, he loved the power rush it afforded him as he felt the life slowly drain from his victims.

_Now’s your chance! Just push her into the back seat of her car and strangle her. Share her final moments of living, as she knowingly succumbs to her fate dictated by me._

His thoughts distracted him hearing the approaching footsteps from behind. 

“Excuse me, but have either of you seen a young boy around here? He’s seven years old and wandered away from his mother by accident.”

A look of annoyance flashed upon his face. _Damn! Too late!_

“No, sorry. I hope he hasn’t strayed too far,” she said with concern.

The security guard caught the frown upon his face, even though it lasted only mere moments. “Is everything okay, here?”

“Yes, I dropped my keys, and this kind gentleman retrieved them for me.”

The guard wished them both a good day and walked away, glancing back over his shoulder just to make sure.

She faced him again. “Thanks again for your help.”

“It’s my pleasure. Merry Christmas, Bella.” 

She appeared confused at first, but then accepted the compliment graciously. It annoyed him greatly that a different fate had intervened and granted her a temporary respite without his prior consent. 

_Fuck! Now I must find another way to kill her!_

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Erica Davidson said, as she unlocked her car and loaded the groceries into the back seat, before getting in and driving off.

_**Four days later...** _

Erica returned home from work to an empty apartment. That day had been hot and muggy, so she opened the windows in the master bedroom to allow the early evening breeze to waft in, when she heard the front door burst open. A loud thump - like someone had dropped something heavy - followed with a colourful range of swear words. Erica ran from the bedroom to the lounge to find a large Christmas pine tree lying on its side with a pair of arms and legs flailing underneath its branches.

“What are you doing, Franky?”

“Having an affair with the Christmas tree. What’s it look like l’m doing?”

“It looks like you’ve tried to add yourself as an ornament to the tree. Either that, or the tree has sprouted arms and legs.”

“Fuck, you’re funny. Remind me to ring Santa and cancel all your Christmas presents. Do you want to give me a hand, here?”

Erica laughed, as she took a photo with her phone. “Not really, I like you like this.”

“No rush, whenever you’re ready.”

“This would make a great Christmas card. I could send one to Bridget and maybe even Boomer.”

Erica admired the picture before pocketing her mobile and lifted the tree up enough for Franky to slide out sideways. Together they placed the tree into a stand in the corner of the lounge room, ready to decorate later that night.

Franky grumbled, as she picked pine needles out of her hair and dusted the bark residue out of her clothes. “Always the wannabe comedian. Next year you’re buying the fucking tree.”

“Fine, I’ll make use of their home delivery service, whilst l’m at it.” 

“Check out all these scratch marks on my arms. It looks like feral cats attacked me!”

“Okay, princess, come and sit on the lounge suite and l’ll inspect the damage.”

Franky sat on the edge on the suite, as Erica kneeled between her legs. “Now, show me where it hurts the most.”

Franky pointed to the largest scratch on her arm. “Here, but strangely, the pain travels down to here.” She pointed to a spot on her inner lower thigh.

Erica raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm, that is strange.” She unzipped Franky’s jeans and pulled them and the underwear off at the same time. “Here, you say?”

“Yeah.” Franky swallowed hard when Erica kissed the indicated spot. “It’s moved upwards, now.” Erica kissed that spot several times, too. “And here, here... and here.” She finally placed her finger on her clit.

“This pain sure moves around,” Erica joked, before she lightly flicked and swirled her tongue over Franky’s clit, until her arousal gave her away.

Franky moaned and leaned back. “I think it’s starting to feel better now.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t even think about it! There’s just one more spot which needs your urgent attention, can you guess where?” Erica answered by pushing her tongue inside Franky. “Bullseye!” Franky said between clenched teeth. “Shit, Erica, l’m not going to last long.” She began to thrust hard against Erica’s mouth, gripping the armrest to prevent herself from slipping off and falling into Erica’s lap. “I’m coming, Erica... FUCK!” Franky shouted as she jumped up in fright. “It bit me! The little shit bit me! AGAIN!”

Erica lost her balance and fell on her backside. Perplexed at first what had just occurred, she glimpsed the furry, butterscotch-coloured culprit as he jumped off the lounge suite and scarpered into the kitchen. Erica picked herself up off the floor and went to fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom.

“You’ve startled him when you placed your hand on the armrest. And his name is Gomez, Franky.”

“His name will be Christmas roast, if he bites me one more time!” Franky called out as she examined the bite on her middle finger. “Seriously, what the fuck possessed Bridget to buy ferrets? Most normal people have cats.” 

Erica re-entered the lounge with the kit and extracted a tube of antiseptic cream and swabs. “It’s your own fault for offering to look after Gomez and Morticia while Bridget went away for a few days.”

“Yeah, but that’s before I knew they were blood-sucking vampires.”

“Stand still while I dab some cream on the wound.”

“Ouch! That stings! Why are they out of their cage, anyway?”

“Because of the unfamiliar surroundings, Bridget advised for them to roam free whenever possible, or they may get cranky and bite.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I’d hate to see what they would do if they got cranky. Hang on, where’s the black and grey one? And how come they never bite you?”

“I just saw Morticia in the bathroom admiring her reflection in the mirror, and they won’t bite me because l’m the one who gives them attention and feeds them.”

“And they’re still alive?”

“Wow, cranky Franky! Are you going to bite me?”

“Only if I’m ignored. I was this close to bliss, Erica.” She held her thumb and index finger half a centimetre apart. “This close! My sore finger’s not the only thing throbbing at the moment.”

“Yes, I know. I was there, remember? And will you stop moving for one minute?” Erica finished dressing the wound. “Bridget is picking them up tomorrow night, so you won’t have to deal with them anymore. Now, let’s do something about your other problem.”

“Oh, yeah? Any ideas?”

“A trip to the bedroom where the big, bad ferrets can’t get you.” 

Erica led Franky to the bedroom and closed the door behind them. She tantalisingly stripped off her floral cotton dress and lay across the bed, as Franky retrieved Erica’s favourite strap-on from the bedside drawer, and climbed on top, pinning her to the bed.

“This is much, much better.” Franky crooned, as she planted kisses all over Erica’s breasts. Gomez scratched at the door. “Piss off, Gomez!” Franky shouted. She looked down into Erica’s deep blue eyes. “Now, where were we?”

“I think we were right about here.” Erica pointed between her own breasts.

“Hang on, wasn’t it my turn?”

“You snooze, you lose. My turn now.” Erica pointed to her own breasts, once more. “Unless you want to give it a miss and start decorating the tree?”

“Nah, l’d much prefer to... OUCH! Fuck, my toe!” 

Franky rolled off Erica and scrambled around the room semi-naked on her hands and knees until she found what she was looking for. She reached under the bed, and hit her head hard on the edge underneath, shaking the whole bed. Erica was in fits of laughter as she watched Franky rise, rubbing her sore head, limping and cussing her way to the door, and deposited Morticia out into the passageway to the eagerly awaiting Gomez, before slamming the door shut behind her.

The following morning, Erica had slept through the alarm and was now running late for work, thanks to Franky’s insistence that they decorate the tree together. By morning, half the baubles were missing off the tree with suspicions that two furry bandits were responsible for the theft. 

Franky stood at the front door with a brown paper bag. “Here’s your lunch, my fair lady.”

“Thanks, baby!” Erica gave Franky a quick kiss and took one last sip from her coffee cup, before handing it to Franky. “One more day, until Christmas holidays.”

“First, we have to get through the pre-Christmas dinner with the gang, tonight.”

“Serves you right for volunteering to cook. See you later and don’t forget to walk Morticia and Gomez.”

“You’re not getting off that easily. Do you realise what today is?”

“How could I forget? It’s been the best six months of my life.”

Franky placed the cup on the entrance table. “Happy anniversary.” She pushed Erica up against the wall and engaged her in a heated and more aggressive kiss this time, which left Erica more than just a little giddy. “That’s the entrée, I’ll be simmering all day, ready for when the guests leave later tonight.”

“Mmm, tastes delicious. I look forward to it.” Erica smacked her lips before turning and walking straight into the door frame. “Oops, sorry,” she apologised, before staggering off towards the lift.

Franky laughed with amusement as she closed the door and looked down at Gomez who was now resting comfortably on her foot. “It’s just you, me and Morticia today. I want no trouble from either of you, okay?” Franky shook her head and sighed. “Once a mighty top dog in one of Australia’s toughest prisons, and now I’m reduced to babysitting and talking to a bloody ferret.” Gomez looked up at Franky with his beady little eyes and tilted his head, as if he understood what she was saying. “You know, that look doesn’t work on me.” He continued to stare up at her, adoringly. “I guess you are cute in a hacked-up furball sort of way. Don’t tell Erica that, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” Gomez lifted himself off Franky’s foot and scrambled off to find Morticia. “Damn it, Gomez!” Franky shouted after him. “I can’t believe you crapped on my foot!”

Franky spent the day juggling kitchen duties and renovations, now regretting her suggestion to give the apartment a fresh coat of paint, starting with the study. “Me and my big mouth - I’ll definitely need another holiday after all this,” she complained to Gomez, as he eagerly watched her pour more paint into the roller tray. 

After the printing plates fiasco with Leonie Cartwright, they had taken a four-week break to escape the media and public interest, by renting a cabin on the secluded outskirts of the Daintree Rainforest in far North Queensland.

_Four glorious weeks to explore one another._

Upon their return, Erica became a senior partner of her firm, renamed Sladen, Jameson and Davidson. It wasn’t what she desired, but it came with a hefty pay rise and the admiration of her peers when Derek Channing arrogantly called her bluff as a last act of defiance for being publicly humiliated. She kept her promise and retaliated by ‘dragging his sorry arse through the courts’ and won. With the case receiving extra media coverage, people in similar predicaments soon inundated her knowing she would fight hard for their rights against sexual harassment within the workplace. The extra money was a bonus as it cleared Franky’s tuition debts, much to Franky’s chagrin.

_“I’m no freeloader, and why should you sacrifice your career for me?”_

_“Because I love you, and it’s not freeloading if you’re aiming towards a goal which will make you happy. I don’t mind delaying entering into politics until after you’ve established yourself.”_

_“On one condition - it’s a loan.”_

_“Let’s compromise. How about I freeload off you for a couple of years further down the track?”_

_“Fucking lawyers, always so bloody pushy. Okay, done deal, but only because I could be shacking up with a future Prime Minister of Australia.”_

With a mutual decision agreed upon, Franky recommenced university part time to complete her law degree. But true to her word, she followed her heart and helped at many missions and hot spots around Melbourne which were renowned for homeless youth. Given her firsthand experience of her own misguided youth, she became a person of trust and respect amongst the homeless who sought her for legal advice. It was a job with unusual hours, but as Franky had pointed out to Erica, _“The homeless don’t keep business hours, therefore, neither do I.”_

Together, they were a powerhouse; an unbeatable team - both inside and outside the bedroom.

Now Franky watched on in a daydream-like trance as Gomez placed his two front paws on the edge of the paint tray, realising too late of his inquisitive intentions. “Gomez, no!” Before she could stop him, his weight flipped the tray upwards, paint splattering on herself and in every direction. She sighed heavily as she watched him run off down the passage, leaving a trail of blue-grey paw prints on the floorboards behind him.

“Better make it a _long_ holiday.” 

Erica arrived home mid-afternoon to find her younger brother, Marty, sitting at the kitchen bench keeping Franky entertained as she prepared the roast lamb. Morticia and Gomez perched themselves upon his shoulders as he fed them leftover scraps of raw meat.

“Hiya, sis,” 

“Hey, yourself.” She caught him eyeing off the large highball flower vase on the kitchen bench filled to the brim with coins. “Don’t even think about it.”

Marty ignored Erica’s stern warning and scooped a handful of coins out of the vase and pocketed them. “Are you two starting a retirement fund?”

“No, that’s Franky’s swear jar.”

“It’s Erica’s idea. She thinks I swear too much. As you can see, it works a fucking treat.”

“Good to see you’ve dressed up for dinner, the bow tie’s a nice touch.” Erica gave her brother a quick peck on the cheek before greeting Franky. “You owe the jar another dollar.”

Marty straightened his black bow tie and checked his reflection on the back of a stainless steel platter to ensure his long blonde dreadlocks looked presentable. “You said dress to impress, so I’ve worn my best t-shirt and shorts.” 

“And the paint stains?” 

“You’re such a snob, Jeffrey. I prefer to call them artistic graphic designer prints rather than paint stains.”

“Jeffrey?” Franky asked.

“It’s nothing, really.” Erica smacked him lightly on the back of his head with the mail she had just brought in.

“Hey, watch the hair! Our parents were expecting a boy and were going to name him Jeffrey, then... _whoosh!_ Out she popped and ruined everything! Wish I was there to see the expression on the old man’s face! Anyway, when we were kids, we figured why let a perfectly good name go to waste, given our sweet, angelic Erica would join us boys in play fighting and rolling around in the mud. She used to nick our GI Joe figures until Mother Dearest banned her from playing with them. ‘Little ladies don’t play with boys’ toys, Erica’,” he imitated their mother’s high-pitched snooty voice. “Then Erica gave her large collection of Barbies haircuts and made them all khaki-coloured clothing, turning them into an army of GI Joes!” Marty roared with laughter and Franky joined in.

“You were a tomboy?” Franky continued to laugh as she put one arm around Erica’s waist and pulled her in close. “What happened?”

“Puberty, dresses and boys.”

“Ouch! Burn, Franky!” Marty laughed once more.

“Well, that would explain why you like perving at me in my tight singlet tops. Perhaps I need to dress in camos, too. What do you say to that, Jeffrey?” 

“I’d say don’t push your luck, Francesca.” She kissed Franky on the lips and handed her a small parcel. “This was left for you in the letterbox.”

Franky inspected the parcel, but given there was no indication as to whom it was from, she tossed it aside on the kitchen bench to open later. “Meh, more fan mail from my many admirers.”

“The celebrity has spoken. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take a quick shower before I help with dinner. And don’t believe any crap Marty says - it’s all lies!” 

Franky watched as Erica strolled down the passageway. “Nice arse!” she shouted after her. Erica gave her a sly look and flipped her the bird in reply before closing the bathroom door behind her.

“There’s gratitude for you, Marty. So what else did Jeffrey get up to as a kid?” 

Marty offered her an evil smile. He now held an attentive audience of one and was happy to dish the dirt on his sister.

**** **** ****

McMahon was the first to arrive at exactly 6.30pm. “The delightful Erica Davidson.” He kissed the back of her hand and presented her with a bottle of white wine and flowers. “The cheap wine’s for Franky, but these magnificent roses are for you.”

“Thank you, Mr McMahon.” She invited him in, as Franky snatched the bottle out of her hand to inspect the label. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Lachlan?”

Erica nodded her approval and introduced her brother who was standing beside her. “Lachlan, this is my younger brother, Martin Davidson.”

“G’day, Lochie,” Marty held out his hand. “Nice crutches.”

“Call me McMahon,” he corrected him and nearly squashed Marty’s hand with his firm handshake. “So, you’re ‘Gidge’?”

“Who?” Marty shook his hand several times to regain the feeling in his fingers.

“Never mind. Just a little in-joke between me and your sister from when we first met.” He followed Erica into the kitchen while she fetched a vase for the flowers.

“Hey Franky, you’d better watch out, I think He-Man has a serious crush on your girlfriend,” Marty said.

Franky placed the bottle in the ice bucket on the dining table. “No shit, Sherlock! Do me a favour and don’t tell him I’ve enticed her to the Dark Side with cookies, to become my horny little sex slave. Let him think he’s in with a chance.”

There was another knock at the door and Franky went to open it. “Hey everyone, it’s Lilith, visiting from the depths of Hell, to collect her precious evil spawn of Satan.”

Bridget eyed off the bump on Franky’s forehead, scratch marks up her arms, and six bandaged fingers. “What happened to you?”

Franky shoved the small portable pet carrier into Bridget’s hands. “Here are your furry pooper scoopers.” 

“Thanks. Is that paint on Gomez’s paws?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know, Gidge. And before you ask, yes I took them for a walk.“

Erica walked over and gave Bridget a hug. “You owe me fifty dollars,” she whispered in Bridget’s ear.

Bridget placed the carrier on the ground. “But did you take them to the park, on a leash and not use the pet carrier?”

“Yeah, just like Erica instructed me. Why?”

“One hundred dollars!” Erica pumped her fist in the air in victory. “Easy money!”

“Damn!” Bridget retrieved her purse from her handbag and pulled out two fifty dollar notes.

“Hang on, was this some sort of bet?” Franky asked.

“I bet Erica that she couldn’t con you into walking the ferrets in the park on a leash.”

“You mean I didn’t have to walk those hairy caterpillars?” 

“Not really,” Bridget made to hand the money over to Erica. “And unfortunately, I lost the bet.”

Franky snatched the notes before Erica had the chance to take them. “No, you both lost. I believe these two lovely pineapples belong to me for all the pain and suffering I’ve had to endure.”

Bridget looked to Erica for an answer. “They bit her. I think the score was five times for Gomez, and once for Morticia.”

“Six for Gomez, plus he crapped on my foot.” Franky corrected her, as she pocketed the money, and walked off to the kitchen to check on dinner.

“That explains the band aids. So, can I rely on you to babysit again soon?” Bridget asked hopefully.

“No fucking way,” Franky shouted from the kitchen. “I’d hate to come between Grandmama and the rest of the Addams Family!”

“Another dollar for the jar!” Erica called out as she started setting another place at the dinner table.

“I thought everyone’s here?” Marty asked. “Who’s the extra freeloader?”

The bell saved Erica from replying. “Get the door, please.”

“Please tell me you didn’t invite him?”

“Shut up and open the door,” Erica said as she walked back into the kitchen.

“Hello, Mother.” Marty scanned the outside corridor. “Where’s the old fart?”

“Please don’t talk about your father like that, dear. He’s meeting with an important client and passes on his sincerest apologies.”

“No need to apologise for his lame excuses, Mother,” Marty kissed her on the cheek and took the pavlova from her. “I’ll put this in the kitchen before I say anything further which will result in a firm tongue lashing.”

Marty caught up with Erica in the kitchen. “Why didn’t you tell me Mother Dearest was coming?”

“You never go home for Christmas and mum wanted to spend time with you this festive season. Besides, you’ve now sorted out your differences, so what’s the big deal?”

“Yeah, but not with him. Wherever mum is, he isn’t far behind.”

“You know dad will never show, given he’s as stubborn as you. Now behave yourself, tonight.”

“Only because she makes the best pavlova, but if he turns up, don’t expect me to behave.” 

Marty joined the others in the dining room as Erica helped Franky to dish up dinner.

“I thought Alan would have arrived by now. Have you heard from him?”

“Nup. Haven’t spoken to him in four days.”

“Maybe he’s been busy with work and forgot about tonight. Have you called him today?”

“I just did, and it went straight to message bank.”

“There must be a good reason. Do you want me to try?”

“What for? If he won’t talk to his daughter, he won’t talk to you.” Franky shrugged her shoulders. “His loss.”

“What about Tess?”

“Give it a miss, okay? It serves me right for believing Alan when he said he’d changed his ways.” Erica turned to leave and Franky quickly halted her from doing so. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“You needn’t apologise. Let’s just have a good time tonight and we’ll visit Alan tomorrow and catch up with Tess.”

“You’re right, I refuse to let Alan ruin dinner.” She handed Erica a ceramic bowl filled with potato jackets. “Here, start taking the food out.”

Everyone seated themselves at the dining table as Franky brought out the roast and placed it on the table, ready to carve.

Bridget deeply inhaled the aroma. “The roast smells delicious. Lamb?”

Franky carved off a slice and offered it to Bridget with a cheeky smile. “Nup. Ferret.”

“I think we should all give thanks for the divine cuisine,” Marty announced.

“Why don’t you do the honours, Martin?” Erica suggested.

“What a splendid idea, Jeffrey.”

“Martin Archibald Francis Tyrone Davidson! There will be no name calling at the dinner table!” Mrs Davidson scolded him, as Franky failed miserably to suppress a giggle. 

Marty’s face turned bright red. “Yes, Mother. Let us all hold hands and take a moment to reflect upon this visual feast. Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub!” He then helped himself to the three largest potato jackets.

“What’s been happening, McMahon?” Bridget asked.

“I’ve left the police force and am now in charge of security at the Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine, although the crutches are restricting me to desk duties.”

“How much longer before you can ditch the crutches?”

“Hopefully only another couple of months, then I can get out of the office and work on the floor. I see your arm has healed.”

“The cast came off two weeks ago, and the ribs have healed, too. It’s nice to have full use of my limbs, again.”

“I know how you feel. By the way, your old mate, Daniel Bailey, said to say hello.”

“Yes, I’ve heard he’s now working there as a senior pathologist.”

“He also said you now owe him two boxes of scotch.”

“No way! It was originally three bottles and I know it goes up a bottle every time I talk to him, but surely it can’t be that many.”

“He said it was three bottles plus interest, which equals one box.”

“And the other box?”

“Consider it payment for him being beaten to a pulp by Dimi Grigoris. Said that whilst he doesn’t mind being tied up and smacked around, he prefers it inflicted upon him by the opposite sex.”

Bridget laughed. “Other than that, how is Danny, anyway? Is he behaving himself?”

“You’re kidding, right? Don Juan can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

Erica nearly choked on her food, and Franky handed her a glass of water.

“My apologies, Erica.”

“Erica, lighten up.” 

“But, Mum-”

“I’m not that much of a prude, dear.” Mrs Davidson held out her glass. “There looks to be a hole in the wine glass, Erica. Fill it up, please.”

Bridget shook her head with amusement at the opposite behavioural patterns of mother and daughter. “What’s Danny done now, McMahon?”

“Management severely reprimanded him for being drunk and sneaking a blonde lass into the lab last week. Said he was showing her the difference between a live and a dead stiffy. They didn’t fire him because he’s considered the best in his field of work.”

Bridget laughed out loud, not surprised at Daniel’s latest misdemeanour. “He’ll never learn. His promiscuous lifestyle as a ladies’ man inhibited him from being head coroner at his previous job, but you’re right, he is the best.”

“Do you still keep in contact with your old police colleagues, McMahon... er, Lachlan?” Erica asked.

“Nope, figured it was best to walk away. Besides, my bum leg keeps me from playing hero.”

“What happened to your leg?” Marty asked.

“My ex colleague shot me in the hip, so I had to get a hip replacement and it will leave me with a permanent limp.”

“Awesome! What did you do in return?”

“I shot her in the back of the head.”

“Ouch! That would hurt,” Mrs Davidson offered thoughtfully.

Marty looked on in horror, not sure whether to believe McMahon. “Wait, you’re the guy who saved my sister?”

“Yep, back in my caped crusader days when I used to rescue damsels in distress.”

“That can’t have been an easy decision to walk away, Lachlan,” Erica interrupted, trying to regain control of the conversation. She desperately wanted to avoid any conversation about that day when she was held hostage in D Division at Pentridge Prison and ended up covered in blood and fragments of Leonie Cartwright’s brain and skull. 

“That’s why I left the police force entirely as I was a field guy. Don’t want no young snot head with a pencil dick barking orders at me from behind a desk. Apologies for the cussing, Mrs Davidson.”

“You’re right, Mr McMahon. People with too much power are more inclined to have pencil dicks.”

“Are you sure you’re related to your mother?” Franky whispered into Erica’s ear. She retaliated by grabbing Franky’s crotch from under the table, causing her to jump in her seat, banging both knees hard underneath the table. “Holy shit!” Everyone focused their attention upon her. “Er, I forgot... the mint sauce.”

Mrs Davidson closely inspected the meat on the end of her fork."I must say, Franky, ferret tastes like lamb."

McMahon smirked at Mrs Davidson’s innocent observations before continuing. “To be honest, I don’t miss being a detective. Hell, I don’t even own a tv.”

Meanwhile, Marty had been busy using a black permanent pen to sketch a profile of Franky on his serviette. Upon completion, he presented it to Franky. “Hold on to this, it could be valuable in about ten thousand years!” 

Franky laughed and tucked it into the collar of her v-neck top for everyone to see. Erica just shook her head. So much for using the expensive linen.

“So, Marty, Erica tells me you’re an artist?” Bridget said, impressed by his sketch.

“Yep, doing an artist in residence program at Montsalvat. It’s a large country property with pine trees, German-inspired dwellings and roaming peacocks. Great for inspiring the artistic mind.”

“Just like the Heidelberg School, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“What’s your preference?”

“Landscapes, Still Life and the occasional nude portrait thrown in for horizontal practice,” Marty joked, as he picked the prawn shells off his plate and dumped them in the ice bucket, despite several small bowls strategically placed around the table for food scraps.

“He’s very talented.” Erica said, before Marty could say anything to embarrass her further. “Hey Marty, why don’t you should show Bridget your portfolio some time? You may end up selling some of your paintings, become rich and break the cycle of artists who become famous after they die.”

“And risk earning father’s respect and no longer leeching off you?” Marty said, tongue in cheek. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, heaven forbid the old man may reinstate me in the will, and you know how much that would piss off Bill and Ben the Flower Pot Men, when they have invested their entire lives grovelling to him.”

“Bill and Ben?” McMahon questioned. 

“William and Benjamin are our older brothers,” Erica explained.

“I remember your father bought them blue and white striped pyjamas the Christmas before Erica was born,” Mrs Davidson recalled. “With their blonde mops of hair I privately referred to them as B1 and B2 from the children’s tv show, _Bananas in Pyjamas_.”

“Now who’s name calling?” Marty asked, as Franky laughed out loud. He raised his glass to her. “To you, my exquisite flower, for being the only sane person in this room and more importantly, for tolerating my sister. That in itself, is worth two toasts.”

“Mate of mine had a kid who attended a school in Heidelberg,” McMahon chipped in. “Wonder if it’s the same one?”

Marty laughed. “I doubt it, unless his kid was an artist back in the late 1800s and was mates with Streeton, McCubbin and the rest.” 

Erica kicked him hard under the table and shot him a death stare to make sure he remained silent. McMahon was being tolerable tonight, but generally, he was not a man to make fun of at his expense.

“Bridget, I understand you’re a psychologist and a lesbian? Is that difficult to juggle?”

“Mum!” Erica scolded.

Bridget laughed. “Not at all, Mrs Davidson. Fortunately, I majored in both at university.”

“Good for you, dear. I voted ‘yes’ for same sex marriage at the last plebiscite.”

“Thank you for the opportunity to allow me to experience the joy of marriage, and the pain of divorce.”

“Just remember, a watertight pre-nuptial agreement will help keep your partner honest. It’s worked a treat for me,” Mrs Davidson quipped, as she held her glass out to Erica for another refill.

After dinner, everyone retired to the lounge, and the night passed with minimal fuss, until Bridget let Morticia and Gomez out of their cage to show some tricks she had taught them. 

“Morticia loves mirrors and has a sixth sense for sniffing out sweets.”

“Aren’t sweets bad for animals?” Marty asked.

“Yes, especially chocolate. Luckily, she refuses to eat the stuff, but for some strange reason she loves to play with it and I have to keep any sweets locked away at home. Whereas Gomez is more laid back and will do whatever she tells him to do. He absolutely worships her.”

“He doesn’t need Morticia’s permission for biting,” Franky said, as she squeezed herself next to Erica in the oversized armchair.

Mrs Davidson downed the last remnants of her of wine. “I thought you said at the dinner table that you had roasted them?”

The temptation to correct Mrs Davidson was great, but Franky decided against it. “These were the leftovers. Too puny to cook.”

“That’s very good of you, dear. Save them for next year and it will give you plenty of time to teach Erica how to cook.”

“I can cook!” Erica protested.

“Way ahead of you, Mrs D. l’ve been giving her lessons, and she’s coming along nicely.”

“Any plans to marry my daughter?”

“Mum!”

Franky glanced sideways at Erica and winked at her. “Dunno. Reckon she’d say yes?”

“If she knows what’s good for her. You’re a perfect catch, Franky and Erica’s right, you are drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Mum!”

Marty laughed out loud. “This is so much fun watching Erica being roasted alive. Normally, it’s me who’s on the receiving end.”

Mrs Davidson ignored him. “Let me offer you some motherly advice, Franky - don’t wait for Erica to pop the question or you’ll die an old maid. And when she says yes, promise me you’ll demand a short engagement.”

Erica sank into the armchair, wishing it could swallow her whole. Franky put her arm around her to help prop her up again, and couldn’t resist a light-hearted dig. “No worries, Mrs D. Hear that, Jeffrey? I have your mother’s approval.”

McMahon checked his phone and rose to his feet. “My Uber’s here. Thanks for the amusing anecdotes, excellent food and kind hospitality, ladies. Do you want a lift, Marty?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m enjoying the show and we need to stay for the grand finale. Trust me, mother’s not yet finished.”

“Can’t you see the girls want to catch up after Bridget’s big trip, Martin? Be a good sport and drop us both off, Mr McMahon. As you can see, I’m a wee bit pickled to be driving.”

“My pleasure, Mrs Davidson.”

With McMahon, Marty and Mrs Davidson finally gone, Erica brought out the brandy as the three girls relaxed and enjoyed the time alone.

Bridget accepted the glass of brandy Erica offered her. “Erica, your mother is a witty character. Very sharp, too.”

“She’s usually reserved in front of strangers, but after one or two drinks she’ll relax and say what’s on her mind. Marty believes she’s a weapon of comedic destruction after she’s had a tipple. I hope she didn’t offend you?”

“Hardly. She’s a lovely lady. Marty must gets his sense of humour from her?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t need alcohol to enhance his foot-in-mouth disease because it comes natural to him.”

“Never mind about Marty and Mrs D, there will be plenty more opportunities for them to embarrass Erica,” Franky interrupted. “So, how was it, Gidge?”

“How was what?”

“C’mon, stop playing with me. It’s not your style to take off on a four day fuck-fest, and I hope you broke it to her gently that she’ll never be as good in the sack as yours truly.”

“Franky! I can’t believe you just said that!” Erica rebuked her.

“What? I’m just pointing out that not everyone is as talented as me.”

“And how do you know you’re really that good? Maybe Bridget’s new love interest is better than you.”

“No way. Besides, I seem to recall you shouting out yesterday evening that my tongue was so dangerous that I risk being arrested for carrying a concealed weapon.”

“I... er, may have been preoccupied at the time,” Erica trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Bridget laughed. “It’s okay, Erica. I learnt a long time ago not to be embarrassed or offended at Franky’s abruptness.”

“So, what’s her name and when are we going to meet her? She’s a chick, right? You wouldn’t be thinking of going straight, behind my back?”

Bridget lifted herself off the lounge suite and fished Morticia out of the Christmas tree for the fifth time that night. “Her name is Lydia, and if things work out, I promise I’ll bring her around for your golden seal of approval, okay?”

_You better watch out_

_You better not cry_

_You better not pout_

_I’m telling you why..._

“Nice ringtone you have there, Gidge,” Franky teased.

_Santa Claus is comin’ to town..._

“It’s not mine.” 

Franky followed the ringtone into the kitchen, to the unopened parcel on the bench which Erica had given her earlier. “Well, now we know what’s in the parcel,” she said, as she used a knife from the kitchen drawer to slit open the box. 

_He’s making a list_

_He’s checking it twice,_

_He’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice..._

“Did you finally replace your old phone?” Erica called out.

_Santa Claus is comin’ to town..._

“Yeah, yesterday when I was out buying the Christmas tree, but the phone company said to hold on to my old one as I’d have to wait up to a week because they had run out of stock. Didn’t realise they would be that quick to courier out a replacement and to disconnect my old mobile though.” The phone continued to ring. “Yeah, hang on!” 

“Seriously?” Erica checked her watch. “Who would be calling just before midnight?”

“Maybe it’s McMahon. I haven’t seen Gomez for a while and I bet he’s hitched a ride with McMahon and he’s only just discovered him.” Franky picked up the mobile from inside the box. “Good evening, City Morgue. You kill ‘em, we’ll grill ‘em!” 

“Danny uses that line whenever I phone him at his work,” Bridget said to Erica. 

“You need to bring him around sometime. I think Franky would get along with him tremendously,” Erica quipped. “Listen, sorry about Franky’s insensitive comments earlier.”

Bridget laughed. “Nah, all good. What you have to understand is Franky is a shit stirrer. The sooner you accept this, you’ll be able to work it in your favour not be embarrassed by what she says.”

_“Hello, is this Franky Doyle?”_

“The one and only!” Franky could tell by the tone it was yet another stranger wanting to talk to her. She and Erica were forced to change their mobile numbers twice in the last couple of months due to their legion of admirers.

_“You’re a hard bitch to catch.”_

Uh oh, another psycho. Time to change the number again. “Who is this?”

_“Your worst fucking nightmare.”_

“Listen up, smartarse, I don’t like it when -”

Erica and Bridget both stopped talking and looked up at Franky when they noticed the change in Franky’s voice.

_“Shut the fuck up and listen, ‘cause every time you interrupt, precious minutes are being wasted. I have someone here you love dearly, and will remain alive as long as you do as you’re told.”_

Moments later, a young girl’s voice came on the line. 

_“Franky, the man said I’ve been a good girl and I can have ice cream!”_

The colour drained from Franky’s face. “Tess?”

_“We watched The Wiggles and sang ‘Fruit Salad’, and...”_

“Honey, are you okay? Where’s daddy?”

_“Daddy’s sick and the man is looking after me until daddy gets better again.”_

“Where are you?”

Tess never got the chance to reply.

_“Tess is doing just fine and hidden someplace safe where no one will ever find her.”_

“Where’s Alan?”

_“Depends. If he’s lead a good life, then he’ll be watching over you.”_

“What the fuck do you mean? Put Tess back on, now!”

_“He’s D-E-A-D.”_

“I don’t believe you, you fucking arsehole!” Franky screamed into the phone.

_“I’m sure the police will visit you soon to verify of his passing. Still want me to put Tess on? You can break the news to her.”_

Erica rushed over to her. “What’s going on?” 

Franky put a trembling finger to her own lips to stop Erica from talking any further. She switched to speaker phone and placed it gently on the coffee table and gestured for Erica to put her mobile alongside and press record. Bridget was fishing her pen and notebook out of her handbag, when she fumbled and accidentally dropped the pen on the table.

_“Is that Erica?”_

Erica and Bridget remained silent.

_“It’s okay, I expect you to be there given you and Franky are in a relationship and living together.”_

“Yes, I’m here.”

_“Welcome to the game! It’s a good thing you’re there because this concerns you too, and it saves Franky having to repeat all this later. As I was about to say before you rudely interrupted me, Alan’s sudden death should not be of your concern anymore. Your primary focus is to get Tess back alive and the only way to do that is by playing my game. Defeat me, and you’ll save Tess. It’s as simple as that. Are you ready to play the game, ladies?”_

“By playing some stupid game?” Franky asked, dumbfounded.

_“Tacky, I know, but Life is like a game, where the correct strategy can advance you further, but the wrong decision can be fatal. With that in mind, have you ever played ‘Fortune Teller’?”_

“Does it involve me shoving a shitload of coins in your slot?” Franky replied.

The phone disconnected but before anyone could say anything, it rang again.

_“Next time I won’t ring back and you’ll never see Tess again. Am I making myself clear?”_

“Crystal.”

_“Fortune Teller is a game made of paper origami, folded into four squares. You choose a colour, then a number, then another number, and finally your fortune shall be told.” _

“I remember making those in primary school,” Erica said.

Franky shook her head in disbelief. “A kid’s game?”

_“Yes, and you have Tess to thank for giving me the idea.”_

“What type of fortunes?” Erica asked.

_“You’ll find out soon enough, but each fortune could be a mission to complete or a puzzle to solve, which may give you a vital clue to help locate Tess and bring her home safely.”_

Erica did the maths in her head. “But... that’s a possibility of eight different fortunes.”

“That’s bullshit! How do we know you won’t change the fortunes each time before you call?”

_“You’ll have to take my word for it, Franky. Now for the rules, because without rules, there are no boundaries, and it encourages cheating. First rule: you must complete each fortune. Failure to do so, means Tess is punished, and you wouldn’t want to be responsible, would you Franky?”_

“It would be your doing, not mine!”

_“You’re losing focus, Franky. Casting blame has nothing to do with the game, but your uncontrolled emotions could work against you and severely interfere with the outcome. Your goal is to win, so Tess can live.”_

Bridget nudged Erica and handed her a note with some questions.

“What if for whatever reason we do not complete a fortune?”

_“It’s in Tess’ best interests that you do.”_

“Humour me. Say something happens beyond our control?”

_“Then you forfeit your go, and I win the game.”_

“And what happens to Tess?”

_“Simple. Tess dies.”_

“You demented twisted fuck!” Franky cut in. “If you hurt her, l’ll fucking kill you!”

_“Hahaha! You like to threaten people, don’t you Franky? But that’s okay. You’ll get your chance - if you win. You don’t who I am, what I am capable of, or who you’re dealing with here. The only way you’ll ever see me, is if you win the game.”_

“How do you know we want to even play this fucked-up game of yours?”

_“Because if you don’t, Tess dies.”_

“We really have no choice, do we?”

_“I’m a little disappointed in your approach, Franky. I know you and your father weren’t close, but I thought your own sister would have meant more to you. I can’t believe you would intentionally let Tess die, just because you’re too chickenshit to play the game.”_

“When does the game start, Mr...?”

_“Nice try, Erica. You may call me... Krampus. The game started the moment Franky answered the burner phone, so don’t bother trying to track any calls as it can’t be traced back to me. Whatever you do, don’t lose the mobile, or you’ll lose your one and only lifeline to Tess. Now for rule number two: The both of you must complete the game alive, without the help of anyone else. If you tell anyone or try to bring them into the game, they die.”_

“But if Alan is dead and Tess missing, the police will automatically be involved,” Erica pointed out.

_“True, however, do not inform them of your contact with me. If the police are there at the end of the game, I’ll know who told them and Tess dies.”_

“The police will kill you, too.”

_“I have no fear, for I am Death.”_

“Fuck you!” Franky said through gritted teeth. She looked Erica in the eye like she was seeking approval, despite neither of them having much choice. Erica nodded. “Okay, Krampus, let’s play.” 

_“That’s much better! See you at the finish line.”_


	2. My Father, Alan

“I can’t watch this shit anymore!” Franky switched off the tv in the small waiting room at St Vincent’s Hospital. The evening news had just reported on ‘the suspected kidnapping of Franky Doyle’s younger sister and the stabbing of her estranged father’, which only enhanced her anger. 

“Estranged? Fuck them!” 

“You know the media will say anything to up-sell a story,” Erica said. 

“Yeah, but are they wrong this time? The worst part is I assumed Alan reverted to his old ways and didn’t care enough to come to dinner. Even you gave him the benefit of the doubt.” 

“How were you to know that Alan would be found dumped in a park with multiple stab wounds? He needs you to be strong, for his sake and for Tess.” 

“How can I be, when I don’t know where she is? If Alan survives, what am I going to tell him?” Franky pushed Erica away and anxiously paced the room like a caged animal looking for a way to escape. “It’s so frustrating waiting around and not knowing.” 

Bridget entered the waiting room. Minutes earlier, she had volunteered for the umpteenth time that day to obtain an update from the nurses’ station, and Franky virtually pounced upon her. 

“Anything?” 

“No, he’s still in surgery.” 

“Jesus! How long does it take?” 

“Alan was busted up badly,” Bridget reminded her. 

“Don’t you think I know that? And what about Tess? She’s out there somewhere scared and alone!” 

“Krampus won’t hurt Tess, Franky.” 

“You know that for sure, do you?” 

“Erica’s right. There has to be a reason he’s taken Tess, so he’s bound to protect her at all cost.” 

Franky was about to argue the point further with Bridget, when a man dressed in blue surgical scrubs entered the waiting room. 

“Francesca Doyle?” He held out his hand. “I’m Dr Hawthorne, the lead surgeon who operated on your father. Mr Doyle suffered a punctured lung, but we repaired it. Unfortunately, he sustained several hard blows to the head which caused severe swelling on the brain. At this stage, we are unsure whether he has sustained any permanent brain damage.” 

“But he’ll pull though, right?” Franky asked. 

“It’s too early to tell.” 

Franky sat down, visibly shaken and Erica sat beside her, resting a comforting arm around her shoulders. 

“When can I see him?” 

“He’s in intensive care and-” 

“I want to see him.” 

“I sorry, but I can’t allow that. We have placed Mr Doyle in an induced coma to help his body heal.” 

“Please, I need to see him.” 

“His appearance will distress you...” 

“I don’t care! My father is fighting for his life. I need to see him!” 

Bridget pleaded Franky’s case. “Franky’s younger sister has been kidnapped, Dr Hawthorne, and therefore needs to see for herself that her father is alive.” 

The doctor hesitated, evaluating what Bridget had just told him. “Okay, but just Francesca, and only for five minutes.” 

Franky followed the nurse along a maze of corridors until they reached the intensive care unit. Despite the doctor’s earlier warnings, nothing could have prepared Franky for what she now saw. What lay before her, was not the strong, muscular man who, when she was just a child, would hoist her upon his shoulders to give her the best vantage in a crowd. Now he looked defeated with his bruised and battered body wrapped in white dressings, some which had blood seeping through; the beeping sound from the respirator being the only sign that Alan was still alive. 

Franky sat in the visitor’s chair and delicately held Alan’s hand in her own, afraid of hurting him. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but Tess is safe and is staying with me and Erica.” She paused and tried to gather her thoughts in some sort of order, without breaking down and crying. 

_Don’t tell him the truth. It will break his heart._

“When you’re better, we’ll bring her back home again.” 

_This is stupid. What do I say to him when he can’t respond?_

Tears rolled down, and she looked away, focusing on the room’s cold, barren walls in some vain hope they could offer her the perfect words to make everything right again. Despite the odds being stacked against him, she marvelled at his will to survive, and realised it was that stubborn streak which probably saved his life - that same Doyle trait she had inherited from him. 

“Do you remember that time I ended up in medical at Wentworth? And you said to me that I would always be your kid? And I told you it was too late for that? I said that out of spite because I was furious you were right - I will always be your kid, I just didn’t want to accept it at the time.” Her fresh tears splattered upon the hand which she still held. “Please don’t leave me, I still need you in my life.” 

She didn’t hear the nurse enter the room until she felt a hand gently squeeze her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Miss Doyle, but your father needs time to recuperate. Go home and we’ll let you know if there’s any change.” 

Franky nodded and kissed the back of Alan’s hand. “You need to fight this. Promise me, okay? I love you, Dad.” 

**** **** **** 

McMahon was waiting outside the apartment building when Franky, Erica and Bridget arrived back. “Sorry I couldn’t join you at the hospital, but l’ve been down at police headquarters pestering my old colleagues for any leads on the case. How’s Alan?” 

Erica invited him upstairs and filled him in on the doctor’s prognosis. “What do the police know, Lachlan?” 

“At this stage, forensics are still going over the crime scene. They also dusted for fingerprints at Alan’s house, but came up with zero.” 

“And Tess?” 

“There’s been no communication from the responsible party and until we hear from them, we must assume she’s safe, and taken for a specific reason. Police have yet to establish whether one or several people are responsible.” 

“He’s running solo, that much I know,” Franky said, bitterly. 

McMahon eyed her off suspiciously. “That’s the sort of comment which suggests you know something. Care to elaborate?” 

“You misunderstand me. He would have to be a male to do what he did, right?” 

“That’s true.” McMahon walked over to the CD player and picked up a Lady Gaga CD. “I like this album, mind if I put it on?” He didn’t bother to wait for permission, immediately placing the CD into the slot and cranking up the volume. 

“What the fuck’s with the loud music, McMahon?” 

“You’ve served time in Wentworth, Franky and would know firsthand what women can do. Then there’s that comment of being solo. With that in mind, don’t feed me a bullshit story, and tell me precisely what you know.” 

“Drop it, McMahon,” Franky warned. 

“Am I to assume you don’t want this guy caught?” McMahon said as he gathered the framed photographs off the mantelpiece and inspected each one of them closely. 

Franky felt unnerved by his sudden strange behaviour. “I do, but I can’t risk telling you because Krampus promised he’d kill Tess if he suspects we’ve spoken to the police!” 

“So his name is Krampus? Lucky for you, l’m no longer a detective. I learnt many years ago that to bring in the bad guys, I sometimes had to work outside the boundaries - if you catch my drift.” 

“The T1000,” Erica muttered to herself, as she recalled Leonie Cartwright telling her about McMahon’s colleagues nicknaming him the ‘T1000’ due to his high rate of arrests. “We can’t do this alone, Franky. We need Lachlan’s help.” 

Erica took Franky’s silence as approval and handed her mobile over to McMahon. Franky went to lower the volume, but he halted her from doing so. 

“Leave it, I like this song.” 

He held the mobile up to his ear and listened intently. Once finished, he handed the mobile back to Erica, concerned at what he had just heard. “He’s disguising his voice by using an electronic device.” 

“Do you see why we can’t involve the police? We could still get Tess back, but should they become involved, we’ll have no hope,” Franky said. 

McMahon picked up the tv remote from the coffee table and opened the battery cover to inspect the inside. “Assuming that’s his final intention. Is there anyone whose toes you’ve treaded on lately?” 

“No one other than Cartwright.” 

“That case is dead and buried - pardon the pun. What about your time at Wentworth? Any inmates you may have clashed with whom would want revenge? This also applies to you too, Erica, given you were governor.” 

“That was years ago. Surely anyone with a gripe wouldn’t have waited so long?” 

“People can hold a grudge for years. Most let it go, but there’s always that one oddball who follows through.” 

“I pissed many people off in Wentworth,” Franky conceded. “The list is long, not just prisoners, but officers, too.” 

“I want you both to write the names of any suspects so the police can start the process of elimination.” 

“Won’t Krampus become suspicious if the police poke around and ask questions?” Franky asked. 

“No, because he’ll expect them to investigate your past given your criminal record. If Krampus believes the police are looking in the wrong direction, then he’ll continue to play the game, ensuring Tess’ safety.” 

“You're sure of this, McMahon?” 

“It's what I would do.” McMahon dropped the remote back on the coffee table. “Send me a copy of that recording so I can decipher it in greater detail.” 

“I’ve started working on it,” Bridget said. 

“You’ve known all along about Krampus?” 

“Yes, I was here when Krampus called last night, however, he has no idea I know.” 

McMahon sighed. “Why is it whenever the shit hits the fan, you three are always hovering nearby? From here on in I need to know everything about Krampus. Whenever he calls, record it. If he so much as farts, I want to hear about it, okay?” 

“Point taken.” Bridget handed him an USB stick with a copy of the recording, along with some papers. “I’ve yet to analyse the entire conversation, but l’ve jotted down some notes while waiting at the hospital.” 

“Any early theories?” 

“He’s a control freak who’s very meticulous, leaving virtually nothing to chance. It’s the reason he’s taken Tess, to guarantee Franky will play his game.” 

“And Erica?” 

“I’m not sure about her. Maybe he took a chance and assumed she would tag along given her relationship with Franky?” 

“Then his assumption would be correct,” Erica said. 

“I’ve also been doing a little research online about on our new friend, Krampus.” 

McMahon pulled back the drapes and peered out the window. “You’ve found him online?” 

“Not him, _per se_, but the name, _Krampus_. In some countries such as Slovenia, Austria, and the Czech Republic - to name a few - Saint Nicholas Day is their version of Christmas Day and is celebrated on the 6th December. On the night before, children place an empty boot on their windowsill, hoping Saint Nicholas will fill the boot up with presents.” 

Franky gave a half-hearted laugh. “Seems stingy. I’d want the biggest boot I could find, preferably Mother Goose’s boot.” 

“I think she means the children will receive presents depending on how well-behaved they’ve been during the year.” 

“Exactly, Erica. Saint Nicholas has two helpers who assist him. One is a good angel who hands out presents to all the well-behaved children, and the other is Krampus, a half devil, half goat-type figure whose job it is to punish naughty children.” 

Franky shook her head. “Today is the 6th December, so Krampus notifying us of Tess’ kidnapping on Saint Nicholas Eve, can’t be a coincidence.” 

“There’s something else. I suspect Krampus has compiled a list of people who he thinks deserves to be punished.” 

McMahon switched the lamp on and off again, before peering inside the lampshade. “What makes you think that, Bridget?” 

“The words to the ringtone. _He’s making a list, he’s checking it twice, he’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice_. I think it’s a clue.” 

“So this nutter thinks he’s the devil sent to do Saint Nicholas’ dirty work, and we need to discover if there’s a list, who’s on it and why, then rescue Tess, and catch Krampus.” 

“If Alan was his first victim, do you think Krampus left him alive as a warning?” Franky asked McMahon. 

“Maybe. There’s police stationed outside Alan’s room just in case. When he awakens, hopefully he’ll be able to give police a description of his attacker.” 

“Assuming he survives,” Franky voiced her concern. 

“So what do we do in the meantime, Bridget?” Erica asked. “Other than McMahon’s request to record the conversations?” 

“It’s imperative you earn his trust. Hopefully, he’ll slip up and give you a clue which could help locate Tess. Above all else, do not aggravate him.” 

“Or we may never see Tess again,” McMahon added. “Don’t suppose anyone has a fortune teller handy?” 

Erica handed him a sample. “I made one up earlier today. It’s been years, but it’s surprising how easy it was to remember.” 

McMahon examined the folded paper. “Krampus wouldn’t want you to choose the same combination of colours and numbers or you’ll ruin the game. Each time he calls, I want you to write the combination you choose along with the fortune.” McMahon pocketed the USB stick, fortune teller and notes. “Thanks for the info, Bridget. Franky, I need a private word with you.” 

Franky followed him on to the landing, closing the door behind her. “If you’re going to lecture me about withholding vital information, then you can-” 

“I’m sorry about your father and I promise I’ll do everything possible to find Tess.” 

His sincere words caught her off guard. “Um, thanks.” 

“Look, I know you’re intelligent and street-smart, but this guy plays on a whole different level, and after what’s happened to your family-” 

“I know what you’re trying to say, but my instincts tell me that I need to think like Krampus if I’m to win this game.” 

“Well, my instincts tell me Krampus will work this game to ensure he’ll win at any cost, and that makes him a dangerous adversary. Until we know what we are dealing with, stay alert and don’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“Isn’t it risky staying here?” 

“Krampus wants you to play until the end, so that should ensure your safety - unless you do something to warrant him finishing the game early. Should you attempt to hide, he may punish you and Erica, or even Tess, so l’m inclined to believe you are safer staying here at the apartment.” 

“That’s a huge assumption, given we know little about him.” 

“Do you remember the second verse to ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’?” 

Franky went through the lyrics in her mind before replying out loud: 

_He sees you when you’re sleeping_

_He knows when you’re awake_

_He knows if you’ve been bad or good_

_So be good for goodness sake._

“Remember this, Franky, just because Krampus isn’t here, doesn’t mean he’s not monitoring you.” 

“Are you telling me he’s bugged the apartment?” 

“When I looked around the lounge room, there didn’t appear to be any hidden devices, but I’ll tell you what to look out for so you and Erica can conduct a thorough search without raising suspicions. Then I’ll rig the stairwell and lift to warn you of any surprise visits, along with a few handy tactics to defend yourselves.” 

“That would explain your strange behaviour. When I worked for Stapylton Investigations, Brian taught me how to bug a place, so I have a fair idea.” 

“Then he would have mentioned playing music helps to mask any private conversations.” 

“Lady Gaga being your preference, right? So if Krampus knocks on our door, should I welcome him in and offer him a cup of tea along with some freshly baked scones? Maybe I can offer to set him up on a date with Joan Ferguson, given they appear to have much in common.” 

“Being a smartarse will get you killed.” McMahon reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. “Here, I want you to take this as a precautionary measure.” He unlatched a black Glock from its holster and demonstrated a quick tutorial. 

“You’re trusting an ex-con with a gun?” 

“No, I’m trusting Franky Doyle with a gun. Let’s see how well you were paying attention.” He handed over the Glock and watched as she mimicked his earlier actions with efficiency and perfection. “I’m not even going to bother asking where you learnt to handle a piece with such confidence, but if you are forced to use it, aim for the leg. We can’t afford to lose our one lifeline to Tess, okay?” 

Franky released the gun’s magazine and returned the gun to its holster, concealing them both in the pockets of her hoodie. “Erica’s gonna be shitty if she finds out. I’ll cop a lecture for sure.” 

“Then tell her to see me. Look, I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but when Bridget mentioned the possibility of Krampus taking a chance with Erica, maybe it’s because he thinks she’s expendable.” 

“But Krampus stated that both Erica and I must complete the game alive.” 

“Which is why I think she’s safe - for now. It appears you’re the one being targeted, and your dad and sister are a strong indicative that the only way to control you and ensure you play the game through to the end, is through your partner, family and friends. ” 

“But that could also include Bridget and even you!” 

“It’s just guesswork at the moment, but in the meantime, store that gun somewhere safe, but with quick access should you need to use it.”


	3. Just for Fun

_You better watch out_

_You better not cry_

_You better not pout_

_I’m telling you why_

_Santa Claus is comin’ to town._

“I hate this tune, already,” Franky complained to Erica as she retrieved the mobile from the kitchen bench. “Don’t let him see you recording this conversation.” 

Franky accepted the video call and Krampus appeared before them; his face disguised behind a glossy red devil’s mask, with long black goat’s horns protruding from the top of the head. 

_“This is what Krampus looks like to you,” _he said in his disguised voice_._

“Seems unfair, given you know what we look like.”

_“Everyone in Australia knows what you look like, Franky, but I’ll make a deal with you. Complete the game and you’ll see my true face. Until then, you’ll just have to be content with the footage you’re recording. Now, let’s play the first round of Fortune Teller.”_

“What do we have to do?” 

Krampus held up the origami. “_Choose a colour: red, blue, green or yellow?”_

Franky hesitated before replying, “Blue.” 

_“B - L - U - E_. _Pick a number_.” 

“Six.” 

“_One - two - three - four - five - six. Pick another number_.” 

Franky viewed the four options on offer. “Three.” 

Krampus opened the flap. “_Your fortune reads, ‘Just for Fun’._ ”

“What does that mean?” 

“_It means if you choose the right ride you’ll see the green palm from inside the park.”_

“Stupid question - aren’t all palms green?” 

“_Some are greener than others, while others appear dead. When darkness falls, choose the right ride and you’ll discover your first clue. You have until midnight to succeed_.” 

Krampus disconnected the call before Franky could ask any further questions. “He knew we were recording this conversation.” 

“Did you see Krampus’ eyes? They’re the colour of blood.” 

“He must be wearing contacts.” 

Erica jotted the combination down on a piece of paper. “What do you think he means by ‘choose the right ride’?” 

“I’m guessing some sort of kid’s ride you’d find in a playground. Tess loves to play on the swings whenever I take her to the local park.” 

“Or an amusement park. I’ve heard that phrase many times, before.” Erica did a quick search on her mobile and held the screen up for Franky to see. “How about Luna Park? According to their website, their motto is ‘Just for Fun’.” 

“Yeah? Let’s test that theory.” 

Inspired by the Coney Island version in New York, Luna Park opened in the Melbourne bayside suburb of St Kilda in 1912. Its facade stood several stories high and had a large, white face resembling a half moon. Its bright blue eyes, long narrow nose, and a huge mouth with red lips doubled as the park’s entrance and exit point for its patrons; with the Great Scenic Railway Roller Coaster running along the outer perimeter of the park’s boundaries. 

Franky looked up at the ever-smiling moon face, as they waited in line for tickets. “Y’know, I’ve always wanted to wipe that smug look off that big bastard’s face.” 

“You want to punch Mr Moon in the mouth?” 

“Yeah, just for fun.” 

Erica laughed. “You are so not funny!” 

“Yet you felt the urge to laugh!” 

Franky approached the counter and opened her wallet to pay for two tickets, when Erica reached over and snatched two fifty dollar notes from within, and deposited them between her cleavage. The cashier watched the scenario unfold and wasn’t sure to act upon what he had just seen, given Erica continued to stand alongside Franky instead of fleeing. 

“She’s with me,” Franky assured the teenager. “Fresh out of Wentworth Correctional Centre after doing five years for pick-pocketing, and it’s my job to reintegrate her back into society. How am I doing so far?” 

“I think you need a new job.” The cashier handed her two wristbands and ushered them through the turnstiles.

“Did you hear that cheeky little shit? And I’ll be claiming that money back later, Davidson.” 

“They were mine, anyway. Okay, funny gal, what now? Maybe we should split up? That way we can cover the park quicker given it closes in less than two hours.” 

“We aren’t the Mystery Inc. gang, Erica. No splitsies. For all we know, Krampus could be waiting for us and we need to cover each other’s backs, if need be.” 

They wasted the next half hour slowly navigating their way around the park, hindered by families, groups of teenagers and people looking to kill time before hitting the bars in nearby Fitzroy Street. 

“I’m thinking Krampus pulled a fast one on us,” Erica said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “There are definitely no palms in this park. Maybe he meant the ones outside the entrance?” 

“I counted over thirty palms while waiting in line, so I hope not. But Krampus said _inside_ the park, therefore we’ve missed it.” 

“Let’s look in the penny arcade. Maybe there’s a small palm tree planted in a pot?” 

“Seems far-fetched, but so is this stupid game we’re being forced to play.” 

The loud music pumped from the speakers as people busied themselves playing video games and prize machines filled with soft toys. Erica leant against the railing surrounding the dodgem track, watching the older kids purposely smashed their cars into one another. 

“Let’s take a quick break and have a go on the dodgems.” 

Franky ignored her, preoccupied by The Amazing Mirror Maze in the arcade’s corner, partially obscured by an oversized video game with a built-in dance floor. 

“Nup, I have a better idea. That maze is closed due to maintenance.” 

“At least the dodgems aren’t closed.” 

“Screw the dodgems, let’s create our own fun.” Franky took a quick look around before unlatching the chain across the doorway and stepping through the black curtain, pointing to the broken mirror on the wall and shards scattered on the ground. “Someone has earned themselves seven years’ bad luck.” 

Erica latched the chain behind her. “That would explain why it’s closed to the public.” 

Franky checked her watch. “Okay, Davidson, you have twenty seconds to hide, then I’m coming to get you.” 

“What’s with the sudden urge to call me Davidson?” 

“I like to refer to criminals by their surname.” 

“What have I done to deserve that label?” 

“I’ll decide later. You now have fifteen seconds.” 

“You want to play Hide and Seek?” 

“Yes. Twelve seconds.” 

“Don’t you think we’re a little old?” 

“Nup. Ten seconds left.” 

“I don’t believe I’m doing this.” 

Erica ran down the narrow corridor, mirrored walls either side, taking a sharp right, then another right, jogging along another corridor before running face-first into a mirror which made the corridor longer than it appeared. 

“Ouch!” Erica rubbed her nose. “Now I know how the mirrors get broken in this maze.” 

_“Ready or not, here I come!”_

Hearing Franky’s words only heightened Erica’s frustration as each turn led her into yet another dead end of mirrors, forcing her to backtrack several times to choose a different path. Finally, she rounded a corner and found herself in a small hexagon-shaped space, surrounded by six mirrored images of Franky using both her hands clasped together in a gun gesture pointed directly at her. 

“Freeze, Davidson, I have you completely surrounded!” 

Erica raised both hands above her head, in defeat. “Are you going to arrest me?” 

“Only if you don’t tell me where you hid the green palm.” 

“Up your arse.” 

“Wrong answer. You leave me no choice but to give you a complete and thorough body search.” She stepped out from behind Erica and placed both hands upon her breasts, taking her time frisking them. “Nothing obvious, but it warrants a closer look.” She slid both hands under Erica’s red singlet top. 

“Can I put my hands down now?” 

Franky cupped a breast in each hand, giving them a gentle squeeze through the flimsy black laced material. “Not until these breasts are fully secured.” 

“From what?” 

“They could be booby trapped.” She undid the hook in the front, releasing Erica’s breasts from their cup holders, leaving them hanging. “Well, well, what do we have here, Davidson?” 

“Free-range breasts?” 

“No, this.” Franky held up the two fifty dollar notes Erica had pinched back from her earlier. “These are stolen goods. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say or do will be used against you later on tonight. Do you understand?” 

“That’s not what the police say when they arrest someone.” 

“I am the police. Do you understand?” 

“No, I don’t. Why don’t you show me now, instead of later?”

“Okay, we’ll play it your way.” Franky entwined her fingers through Erica’s, and brought their hands down together, covering Erica’s eyes. “I’ll remove our hands now, and I want you to look into the mirrors around you and tell me what you see.” 

Erica opened her eyes and giggled. “I can see both of us from _every_ angle.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“I see...” Erica closed her eyes again and concentrated before replying. “I see you watching me have an orgasm.” 

“That’s the destination,” Franky leant her chin upon Erica’s right shoulder and whispered in her ear. “Show me the journey and you’ll be richly rewarded.” 

Franky made use of the mirror in front to watch Erica as she glided her hands quickly over her torso, undoing her belt buckle and jeans, but before she could go any further, Franky slapped both her hands away. 

“Does it turn you on that an attendant could discover us at any moment?” 

“Very much so.” 

“Is that why you’re moving so fast?” 

Erica shrugged. “I’ve never done anything like this in public.” 

“Then take my advice and slow down, because this viewer would very much love for us both to enjoy the ride.” 

Erica abandoned her plans for a quick fuck, pulling the singlet over her head and discarding it on the floor, and placing her hands upon her breasts. She felt Franky’s hot breath into her neck, hearing it become more laboured as she took her time caressing her own breasts; placing a hand under one and pushing it upwards, sucking and pulling at the nipple with her lips. 

“Shit, that’s hot! It’s almost worth robbing myself of doing that to you.” 

“You still can. Let me turn around so we can face each other.” 

“Nup, I will hold you to your fantasy and watch your reaction as you fuck yourself to an orgasm.” 

“But you’ll be missing out.” 

“Trust me, I won’t. I’m enjoying watching you pleasure yourself.” 

Erica felt Franky tremble against her body and heard the distinct sound of a zipper being opened, excited that Franky was about to join the party. 

“Tell me, who will come, first?” Erica asked as she pushed her jeans down and inserted two fingers inside herself, pushing in and out, the friction and moisture creating a suction-type sound. 

Franky swallowed hard. “Does it matter?” 

Hearing Franky moan into her shoulder, knowing that she was nearing her climax, prompted Erica to quicken the pace; her legs threatening to give way from under her at any moment. 

“Don’t close your eyes!” Franky pleaded as she tightened her grip around Erica’s stomach with her left hand to stop her from collapsing. “I promise the results will be worth it.” 

Erica wanted to throw her head back and close her eyes to prepare for her inevitable climax, but with Franky coaxing her on, she focused upon the images the mirrors provided of them both coming together within the confined space. 

“See how perfect we look together?” Franky said, huffing in her ear. “Have you ever seen anything more exquisite?” 

“No, never,” Erica bit down on her lower lip, still coming down from the euphoria of fucking in a public place. “But I thought I would fall down before we had a chance to orgasm.” 

“You nearly did. Are you right to stand up, alone?” Erica nodded and Franky stepped away, pulling her own jeans up and watching as Erica latched her bra and tucked her tight singlet in her jeans. “Much better than the dodgems, huh?” 

Erica laughed. “Definitely, even though it cost me a hundred bucks.” 

“I warned you earlier that-” 

_“Who’s in here? This attraction is closed!”_

“Shit, I think we’re about to be sprung!” Franky pulled Erica by the hand and ran towards the exit tumbling out of the maze, immediately blending in amongst the sea of people. She laughed and threw her arm around Erica bringing her in for a kiss. “Maybe we should have stayed and given the attendant a free peep show.” 

“Franky, look behind you...” 

“I’m more interested in what’s in front of me.” 

“As much as I hate to break this up, I can see a sign with a picture of a palm near the Scenic Railway’s entrance.” 

“Okay, you now have my complete attention.” They pushed their way through the crowd and stood in front of a metal sign with an old photo reproduction dating back a hundred years, showing the Scenic Railway with a palm tree nearby. “This has to be what Krampus meant.” 

Erica was sceptical. “I don’t know. The more I think about it, the more it makes little sense.” 

“What else could it be? Look around you, Erica. See any other palms?” 

“Krampus said if we choose the right ride we’ll see the green palm.” 

“Yeah, well, here’s the palm, and I pick this ride. Seems like a perfect match to me.” 

“But he mentioned a _green_ palm, yet this photo is sepia-toned. We can see this sign at any time, so why did he request we wait until night?” 

The rattling sound of the old Scenic Railway carriages drowned out Erica’s voice as it zoomed past on its rickety railings. Franky looked up at the white, wooden support beams which shuddered violently. 

“I think you’re right.” Franky inspected the sign again. “I’m reading this all wrong. It’s not so much as a sign of a palm, but more like a sign to lead us to the palm.” 

“I’m not sure what you mean?” 

“Feel like a ride on the Scenic Railway, Erica?” 

A look of unease spread across Erica’s face at Franky’s suggestion, as she read the ride’s description on the sign. “It says, ‘The Great Scenic Railway opened in 1912 and is the oldest operating wooden roller coaster in the world.’ Do you really expect me to go on this thing?” 

“Why not? It can’t be that dangerous if it’s still operating.” Franky pushed Erica through the turnstile before she could object. 

Much to Erica’s horror, Franky secured them the front seat in the first carriage by flirting with the ride attendant. With only a padded bar secured across their laps to hold on to and to stop them from falling out, the narrow train slowly climbed the first steep hill. Franky held both hands above her head in anticipation, as Erica used her hands to cover her face. Down they went on the other side, both screaming, although one with joy and the other with fear. The carriage slowed down at the top of the second bend. 

“Hey Erica, you’ve got to check out this view! You can see the night lights across Melbourne.” 

Erica removed both her hands from her face long enough to glance quickly at the surroundings before covering up again. 

“How come you’re comfortable walloping someone with a baseball bat, but scared shitless of a kids ride?” 

“You’re lucky I don’t have a baseball bat right now...” Erica screamed as she felt the sudden sensation of her stomach dropping. The carriages rocketed down the tracks and back up again over two more hills, before slowing down again as it rounded the curve. 

“Shit, Erica, look!” 

The urgency in Franky’s tone enticed Erica to look once more. “You’d better not be...” 

But she didn’t bother to finish the sentence. Looking down from above, they could see a long row of palm trees along the St Kilda beach foreshore, all lit up in yellow lights except one, which was basked in a bright green glow. 

“Krampus said some palms are greener than others!” Erica squealed with delight. “That has to be what he meant!” 

“Which we can see from inside the park. We’ve picked the right ride, after all.” 

Caught up in the excitement of discovering the whereabouts of the first clue, Erica completely forgot about the rest of the ride. They exited the park and dodged the Saturday night traffic, crossing the busy Jacka Boulevard, running along the footpath until they reached the green-lit palm. 

“This has to be it,” Franky said, huffing slightly from the impromptu run. 

“How did he turn it green?” 

Franky knelt beside the spotlight, encased within a wire grille box. “The yellow light bulb has been removed and replaced with a green one.” 

“Krampus must be somewhere nearby watching us, otherwise how will he know if we complete the task?” 

“I don’t know if he’s nearby, but he would have been here at some stage today to install that green light, right? According to Bridget, he’s a control freak, so he wouldn’t want to risk changing it any earlier, for fear the local council will change the light back again and ruin his plans. I wonder...” Franky kicked the top off the light box and tried to inspect it. “I think there’s some tiny writing on the bulb, but the light makes it too hard to read.” She removed her jumper from around her waist and used it to unscrew the hot globe. “Now it’s too dark to read.” 

“We’ll check it out at home.” Erica pointed up at the security camera attached high upon a light pole. “Maybe Lachlan can use his police contacts to view the CCTV footage?” 

“No harm in asking. Good catch.” 

Arriving back at the apartment just before midnight, Franky connected the light bulb to a lamp in the lounge room, whilst Erica retrieved a pen and paper from the coffee table. 

“I still can’t read this without blinding myself, but it looks like the letters are written backwards. Maybe I should try wearing sunglasses?” 

Erica followed the trail of the light. “No need. Look upwards.” 

Franky looked up to see the message from the globe now reflecting on the white ceiling, albeit in large, distorted letters. She snatched the piece of paper off Erica and held it about five centimetres directly above the light and read out loud: “Death awaits those.” 

“Shouldn’t Krampus have told us this earlier? We were just at the green palm and nothing happened.” 

“He’s due to call at any moment. Let’s ask him.” 

The clock ticked over to midnight and the phone rang.

_“__Hello, Franky, did you find the clue?”_

“Death awaits those.” 

_“Excellent. Are you ready for your next fortune?”_

“Don’t we need to act upon the clue you’ve just given us?” 

_“You’ll find out in due course. Pick a colour.”_

“Why so quick? Why not tomorrow morning?” 

_“Technically, it is tomorrow morning. Stop stalling and select a colour.”_

“Yellow.” 

_“Y - E - L - L - O - W. Pick a number.”_

“Five.”

_“One - two - three - four - five. What’s your fortune?”_

“Two.” 

Krampus opened the flap. _“‘No one is inaccessible’. Must be your lucky day. Have a good night’s sleep, ladies.”_

“Our lucky day? Is that even possible with Krampus?” Erica asked. “What do we do now?” 

“I get the feeling this second fortune doesn’t involve us doing anything, so there’s nothing we can do other than wait on the outcome.”


	4. The Matriarch is Dead

Franky walked into the intensive care ward, noting the policewoman sitting outside her father’s room casually flipping through a trashy women’s magazine.

“Those magazines will rot your brain.”

The senior constable stood up and blocked Franky’s entry into the room. “You must be Franky Doyle?”

“Yeah,” Franky presented her driver’s licence as proof. “Any updates?”

“Your mother’s in with Mr Doyle at the moment. Other than that, there’s nothing else to report.”

“My mother?” Franky asked with disbelief. “That’s impossible.”

“She said she’s Alan’s wife and presented me the relevant paperwork. I had it cleared with Headquarters, beforehand.”

“But Tess’ mother died during childbirth.” A horrific thought crossed Franky’s mind. “Shit, no! It can’t possibly be!”

The officer noted the look of distress upon Franky’s face and removed the handcuffs from her pouch. “I’ll arrest her immediately.”

“Wait, I’ll take care of her. Do me a favour and give us a few minutes, okay?”

The officer understood. “Reckon it’s time for my coffee break, anyway.”

Franky entered the private room to find her mother sitting on the edge of Alan’s bed. Nadia’s skin appeared jaundiced; her hollowed face and sunken dull-green eyes were the result of years of alcohol and drug abuse. If it were anyone else, Franky may have taken pity upon this lost soul, but she knew that under that sickening exterior, lay a cold, dead heart capable of inflicting immense pain, with no hope of redemption.

_The devil wears many different disguises._

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be dead by now?”

Nadia rose from the bed. “I’m not here for you, brat.” She held her left hand up to show Franky a large heart-shaped stone imbedded in a silver ring. “Alan’s still my husband and I’m seeking what’s legally mine.”

Franky scoffed. “I bet I can guess what happened to the wedding ring. What surprises me is why you didn’t pawn the engagement ring for drugs?”

“Zirconias are worthless, besides, some things are worth keeping in case they’re needed further down the track, like now, for instance.” She waved a form in front of Franky’s face.

Franky snatched the Final Will and Testimony from Nadia’s hands to inspect it closely.

“You leech! You’re just here to get Alan to sign everything over to you.”

“He owes me after leaving and dumping you on me.”

“Hate to piss on your parade, but he’s still in a coma.”

“Yes, it would make my life easier should the bastard die.”

Franky pushed Nadia against the wall and punched her hard in the stomach, watching with satisfaction as she slid to the floor, coughing and spluttering.

“What’s the matter old bitch? Can’t fight back against me now that I’m no longer a small, defenceless kid?”

Nadia looked up and laughed, revealing her rotted teeth. “Is my waste of a daughter going to kill me?”

“Don’t you call me that! You have no right to call me your daughter!” Franky pulled the older woman up by her wiry grey hair, causing her more pain. “No decent mother would belt her child black and blue, then lock her in her room for hours at a time with no food or water. I still bare the physical and mental scars from your years of abuse!”

“That’s because you were such an evil little girl. I tried my best to belt it out of you, but it didn’t work. Even your father despised you so much, he left you behind.”

Franky winced at the putrid smell of Nadia’s breath. “You’re full of shit. You only kept me around so you could claim the government handouts to buy more gear.”

“I had to get some use from you given you were my greatest mistake.”

“Then why did you have me if you never intended on loving me?”

“I purposely fell pregnant to stop Alan from leaving me, but it eventually backfired and I got lumbered with you.”

Franky drew her fist back, ready to punch Nadia in the face. “You’re fucking dog meat.”

“Franky!” Erica shouted from behind. “Let her go!”

“Do you know who this is?” Franky slammed Nadia forcibly into the wall once more, holding her in place by her throat. “This human garbage used me as her fucking ashtray!”

“I don’t care who she is. You need to let her go, _now!”_

Nadia struggled for each breath, her bulging eyes proving to Franky that the woman could express fear.

“You know what sucks the most? The law would punish me should I end your miserable life.” Franky pushed Nadia towards the door, kicking her in the small of her back. “Never show your face around here again, got it? Cause next time not even Erica will stop me from killing you!”

Nadia picked herself up off the floor and spat in Franky’s face. “Fuck you, and your little blonde whore.”

Franky made to chase her down the hospital corridor, but Erica held a firm grip on the back of her shirt. “Why the hell did you stop me?”

“Because I was afraid once you started, you wouldn’t stop.”

“Why would you care? Nadia is not of your concern.”

“Really? What if your mother presses charges for assault? You would be in breach of your parole.”

“Don’t refer to her as my mother,” Franky warned. “The assault is her word against mine, unless you choose her over me by acting as her witness?”

“Are you serious? I’ve always been here to support you.”

_You better watch out_

_You better not cry_

_You better not pout_

_I’m telling you why..._

_Santa Claus is comin’ to town..._

“It’s Krampus,” Erica said, retrieving the phone from her handbag.

“No shit, I thought it was our fairy godmother.” Franky snatched the phone from Erica’s hand, the now familiar devil’s mask appearing on screen. “Yeah, what do you want?”

_“Good to see you’re in the Christmas spirit, Franky.”_

“I’m not in the mood for your shit today, Krampus.”

_“C’mon, it’s another glorious December day, and it’s time to play Fortune Teller. Are you ready to stretch your legs?“_ Krampus pulled out the paper origami.

“Wait!” Franky interrupted. “How do we know you’re not changing the fortunes after each round?”

_“Fairly sure I’ve told you previously to trust me.”_

“Yeah, but my problem is that trust is something you need to earn, first.”

He watched as Franky retrieve a piece of paper from her pocket.

_“What’s that?”_

“The combinations and their fortunes which we have chosen so far. I wonder what will happen should I choose a previous fortune?”

_“Not an option, given it’s my game.”_

“Why? Afraid I’ll catch you out?”

_“Are you calling me a liar? Because one thing I won’t tolerate is anyone who questions my integrity.”_

“Shut up, Franky,” Erica whispered as she nudged her in the ribs.

Franky ignored Erica’s plea. “No, l’m calling you a fucking cheat, because you have no integrity to question!”

_“I have no integrity? I think it’s time to teach you both a lesson who’s in charge here. You’ll be punished for your lack of trust.”_ The line then went dead.

Erica was furious. “Why the hell did you antagonise him like that? You couldn’t have just kept your mouth shut?”

“You heard that cheating arsehole! What was I supposed to say?”

“When are you going to learn to keep that temper of yours in check? Hasn’t it gotten you into enough trouble over the years?”

Erica’s choice of words stung Franky, and she felt her temper rise once more. “So I should have just said nothing?”

“Exactly.”

“Bullshit! If we have to play by his stinking rules, then so should he!”

“But he doesn’t look at it that way. Krampus shows the signs of a narcissist and because you stood your ground, he now feels the need to remind us who’s in charge.”

“Are you saying this is my fault?”

Erica skirted around the question. “Bridget warned us to tread carefully and above all else, to earn his trust so he would hopefully reveal something we can use to help further our cause. You did the one thing she told us not to do!”

“So it is my fault! Just say it!” Erica refused to take the bait. “Fine, then!” Franky punched her fist into the wall, leaving a large dent behind. “Maybe you should stick to courtrooms and leave the psychological analysis of Krampus to someone who has experience - like Bridget. You know what? Fuck you, I don’t need your help. Consider the partnership dissolved!”

**** **** ****

Bridget sat in the restaurant, enjoying some well-earned down time with Lydia - something she felt she no longer had since the whole Krampus mess had started.

“I’m sorry l’ve been ignoring you,’ she reached over the table and held Lydia’s hands in her own, gazing into her hazel-coloured eyes. “Trust me, it’s not intentional.”

“I understand. Work must be hectic?”

“No, I have close friends who are having major problems and I feel powerless to help them.”

“That’s what I love about you, Bridget - your selfless dedication towards helping everyone around you. And it’s not just because you’re a psychologist - you have a kind soul.”

“Yes, but dealing with other people’s problems can sometimes be a heavy burden, especially when it’s someone you love.”

“Anything you want to get off your chest?”

“Tempting, but I don’t think it’s fair on you. Anyway, I refuse to ruin this lunch date, so for the next hour, I’m all yours.” Bridget’s mobile rang. “Damn!” She glanced at the screen before accepting the call. “Erica? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

_“It’s Franky... she’s left me and it’s all gone to shit with Krampus!”_

“Calm down, you’re not making any sense. What’s happened?”

Bridget mouthed the words, _I’m sorry_ to Lydia. Lydia offered her an understanding smile in return, before perusing the menu.

_“Krampus rang with another round of Fortune Teller while we were at the hospital. Franky was upset from seeing her mother minutes earlier, lost her temper and accused him of cheating. Krampus said he’ll now punish us.”_

“Franky’s mother, Nadia? Are you sure?”

_“Yes. We then argued about her temper always getting her into trouble, and she retaliated by saying she’s dissolving the partnership, punched a hole in the wall and stormed off.”_

“Shit! Franky challenged him? After I specifically told you both not to upset him?”

_“Yes, I’m really worried. I’ve checked her usual haunts, and her mobile just rings through to her message bank.”_

“Have you informed McMahon of the latest developments?”

_“He’s aware, but there’s nothing either of us can do at this stage and he told me to wait for her at home. McMahon believes Franky will come back when she’s let off some steam.”_

“McMahon’s right, Franky will come home when she’s ready. And she said the partnership’s dissolved?”

_“Absolutely.”_

“Hmmm, she may refer to the both of you teaming up for the game.”

_“I never thought of it like that. But she can’t! We’re not allowed to split! If Krampus rings again and finds Franky gone, then shit will really hit the fan! What am I going to do?”_

“Who has the mobile?”

_“I do.”_

“If Krampus calls, it’s imperative you make him believe Franky is still there. Don’t let him think you’ve had a fight, or he’ll see it as a weakness and may try to exploit it to his advantage.”

_“Okay.”_

“I will try to contact Franky. Hopefully, she’s calmed down enough to take my call.” Bridget hung up and covered her face with her hands. “Shit!” She mumbled to herself.

“Wow, apologies for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help but hear your half of the conversation. That sounds very serious.”

Bridget had been so emerged in the conversation with Erica, that she had temporarily forgotten Lydia was still there. “It’s about those friends I mentioned earlier.”

“Are you okay?” Lydia asked with concern. “You seem distracted.”

“It has to be Wentworth...”

“Has something happened at the prison?”

“Listen, I hate to cut this short, but I need to sort out a few things. I’m sorry to do this to you.”

“Don’t apologise. Your friends need you and we’ll get together once it’s all over, okay?”

Bridget smiled. “You are a gem, thanks for being so understanding.”

**** **** ****

“Good afternoon, Miss Westfall,” the gate guard greeted Bridget as she pulled up alongside the gatehouse at Wentworth. “Can’t keep away from the place?”

Bridget laughed. “Afternoon, Jason. I left some paperwork in my office which I need to complete my reports.”

The guard opened the gate to let her drive through and she immediately spotted Franky’s car parked in the far corner of the visitors carpark. Breathing a sigh of relief, Bridget parked her car and headed over to Franky, tapping on the window to let her in.

“Jesus, Gidge... you scared the living shit out of me!”

Bridget smelled the alcohol on Franky’s breath and sensed this would be a tough conversation. “How’s the hand?”

“Fucking sore. How did you know where to find me?”

“I remembered back to that time when you parked outside Wentworth, contemplating about your life. Figured the homing pigeon may make a surprise return to its old nest.”

“Reckon I need to find me a new thinking place.” Franky winked. “You’re looking hot, Gidge. Did you dress up just for me?”

“No, for Lydia, but I had to leave our lunch date a little early.”

Franky felt a pang of jealousy. “So, she’s more than just a one fuck wonder?”

“That’s a low blow, Franky.”

“Yeah, well, it’s about time you moved on with your life.” The touch of resentment in her voice was evident. She pulled a small bottle of scotch from the pocket of her jacket and unscrewed the top. “Cheers, big ears.”

“That will not help the situation.” Bridget held out her hand and Franky huffed and rolled her eyes before slapping the bottle into her palm.

“You can see I’ve barely touched it. Just needed an early nightcap to numb the pain of Erica’s hurtful words, not to mention my sore hand and all the other bullshit that’s going down at the moment.”

“Speaking of which, Erica’s worried sick about you. She thinks you’ve left her.”

“What? Why would she think that? All I said was the partnership’s... dissolved.” Realisation dawned, and Franky slapped herself on the forehead. “Stupid, Doyle! That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, and l’ve set her straight, but surely you can see how by saying something like that leaves it wide open to be misconstrued? Especially given you decorated the wall with a print of your fist.”

“She needs to understand l’m just being me! My temper is a part of who I am.”

“It doesn’t have to be-“

“God, she infuriates me sometimes, you know? I feel like she’s always judging me, too.”

“Does she? Or are you just saying that because of the pressure of dealing with Krampus?”

Franky shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. But I feel like I have to explain myself to her all the time, and if I don’t, she won’t trust me. That really pisses me off!”

“What makes you think that?”

“We’ve from two different worlds - she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, whereas in mine, people use silver spoons to heat their next hit. She has no fucking idea!”

“Now who’s judging? Have you told her how you really feel?”

Franky sighed. “What’s the point? I dunno... it was so much easier being with you. You wouldn’t let me get away with shit, but you were smart enough to know how far to push me.”

“Franky...”

Before Bridget could finish the sentence, Franky leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Gently at first, until it became a more deepened, passionate kiss and Bridget allowed herself to be taken back to happier times when Franky was all hers.

_Fuck, Franky, you’re killing me here! I hate how after all this time you still make me feel this way!_

She pulled herself away, leaving Franky somewhat confused. “This is wrong. What we’re doing, is wrong.”

“I can’t help it if I still have feelings for you.”

“No, you don’t! Don’t do this to me, Franky. It’s not fair on me, or Erica.”

“Fuck Erica! She doesn’t get me like you do!”

“That’s complete bullshit. You know Erica loves you.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t see her sitting here beside me, trying to talk me down off the fucking ledge.”

“That’s because McMahon told her to return home in case Krampus called. I also had a hunch where you would be and figured I could talk to you once you’ve had time alone to think.”

“Exactly, cause you know me better than she ever will! You would never have said that shit to me like she did!”

“Don’t bet on it! Is your ego really that inflated you can’t possibly take any sort of rejection? This isn’t just about your temper, Franky, it’s about you not controlling the situation. You’re shitty with yourself because you tried to outplay Krampus at his own game and lost, and now the both of you will have to suffer the consequences of this unhinged psychopath. It’s no wonder Erica’s pissed off with you.”

“But she-“

“Was doing precisely what I told you both to do! You’re the one who’s done wrong here and you know it. And another thing, don’t ever use me like that again. If you think I enjoy being part of your selfish mind games spurned on by jealousy, then you really don’t know me at all. How could you possibly think it’s okay to sabotage your relationship with Erica and ruin my chance to be happy with Lydia?”

The raw anger in Bridget’s voice took Franky aback. “You’re right, what was I thinking? I’m so sorry, Gidge, I had no right to disrespect either of you.” Franky sighed. “Are you going to tell Erica?”

“No, I’ll let you decide the right thing to do, but remember this: the only way Erica will ever understand you, is if you open up to her. Let her know what’s happening inside that head of yours. That’s assuming you want the relationship to survive.”

“Yeah, you’re right, she’s worth it. And you deserve happiness after all the shit I’ve put you through over the years.” Franky stared at the prison for a few moments. “Did Erica tell you what set me off in the first place?”

“Yes, she told me you saw Nadia, today.”

“Not by choice. She had the gall to visit my father at the hospital.”

“But you told me she was dead.”

“I assumed after all the years of sharing needles and poisoning her liver, her luck would have run out.”

“Shit, Franky, why has she resurfaced now?”

“My father never applied for a divorce and she’s doing a bit of gold digging.”

“Let me guess, after Nadia attempted to stake a claim, you took a swing at her.”

Franky nodded. “What scares me most, is if Erica hadn’t intervened, I don’t know how far I may have taken it. I wanted to hurt her so badly; to make her feel real pain and fear like she inflicted upon me as a child.”

“And you’re afraid of becoming like her?”

“At first, yes.”

“Now that you’ve had time to reflect upon the situation, what conclusion have you drawn?”

“That it was never my fault. Nadia could have had a good life, yet she intentionally threw it all away and now she despises herself. I will succeed where she failed, because I’m grateful I’m alive and surrounded by good people whom I love dearly. I want to live and make the most of every opportunity, unlike Nadia who just exists. That’s the difference between me and Nadia and the reason I’ll never be like her.”

“Is this why you’re sitting here in the carpark, looking at Wentworth?”

Franky nodded. “Sometimes I need a reminder that nothing is worth another stint inside.”

**** **** ****

Erica rushed at Franky the moment she walked through the door and threw her arms around her. “I’m so sorry I blew up at you like that. I was inconsiderate of your feelings towards Nadia and should have known better. Please forgive me.”

“You made the right choice. It took real nerve standing up to me the way you did at the hospital. Seeing Nadia today dredged up many painful childhood memories - even stuff long forgotten. I can never forgive what she did to me, but I don’t hate her anymore because she’s not worth it.”

“You’ve not only survived, but flourished - all without Nadia’s help. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Normally I would agree with you, however, I feel nothing but shame.”

“Why on earth would you feel like that?”

Franky removed Erica’s arms from around her neck. “Because I’ve fucked up and betrayed your trust big time.”

“There’s only one way you could do that.” Erica sighed. “Something’s happened between you and Bridget, hasn’t it?”

Franky nodded. “I kissed her, but she shot me down and made me realise what an idiot I was. I don’t know why I did it - no, that’s not true. I did it because I didn’t want to control my anger and by doing so, I showed complete disrespect to the two people I swore I’d never intentionally hurt.”

“I was afraid this may happen, given the pressure on our relationship since Krampus arrived on the scene and-“

“Stop it! Don’t make excuses for me - it was all my own doing. I made a bad decision stemmed from my anger and now it’s you who has to suffer for it.” Franky broke down and cried. “I hate myself right now because I’m jealous of who you are - your family, your status and how you’ll never know what it’s like to live off customers’ discarded food scraps from abandoned tables in fast food restaurants, just so you’ll have enough money to pay your rent. But most of all, I don’t understand why you’d want to be with someone like me when we’re two totally different people. I feel I am not worthy of your love.”

“You’re frustrated with me because through no fault of my own, you’ve stereotyped me as a spoilt rich kid? You’re right, my parents never physically abused me and my financial status guarantees I’ll never experience hardships like you, however, I’ve spent my whole life wandering around aimlessly until you came along. You complete me and I can’t imagine my life without you. Money and status are materialistic, whereas love is not. Now I’ve experienced both, I know which I value more.”

“It’s love, right?” Franky chuckled in-between tears. “You’re right, you can’t help where you came from any more than I can, and I have no right to hold that against you. It’s my stupid insecurities speaking their mind. Will you forgive me?”

“On one condition - that you convince your stupid insecurities you are worthy of my love.”

“Reckon I could do that.”

“One more thing, I would like to think l’ve been rather accepting of Bridget - given she’s your ex - to a point where I now regard her as a close friend I can confide in. Should I need to have any concerns which could lead me to regret my decision?”

“None and please don’t blame Bridget for my stupidity. I’m sorry, Erica, for everything. Take a swing at me - a punch to the mouth is what I truly deserve.”

“And risk injuring that beautiful face of yours? Thanks, but I’ll give it a miss. All that’s left is to promise me you’ll never do this to me again. This is your one ‘get out of jail’ card. Please don’t waste it.” Franky smiled at the choice of words. “This is the second time Bridget’s saved our relationship and I think we should thank her.”

“Way ahead of you. I felt guilty for destroying her lunch date with Lydia, so I booked them in for a night at a luxurious five-star hotel with all the pampering extras. Afraid it will cost you some serious dollars.”

“Me? Why me?”

“I may have used your credit card.”

“Franky!”

Franky flashed her cheeky smile, revealing her dimples. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s your own fault for leaving your purse unattended around an ex-con.”

“Can I assume you feel guilty enough to make it up to me, too?”

“Sure! What were you thinking?”

“I would have suggested for you to take me somewhere extravagant, but I don’t think it’s wise to hit my credit card with two large transactions in the one evening.”

“I have the perfect remedy, and it won’t cost you a cent.”

**** **** ****

The following morning, Erica signed for a package with bright orange fragile stickers plastered all over it.

“There’s no return address on this package. Have you been ordering more sex toys online again?”

Franky laughed. “Nup. Wonder what’s in the package?”

“We’ll know shortly,” Erica said as she ripped the tape off the box and opened the cardboard flaps. “It’s a small esky.”

Franky occupied herself with a juice from the fridge when she heard Erica scream. She ran back to the lounge and saw Erica backed up into a corner, with both her hands covering her mouth, looking visibly shaken.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Erica pointed to the esky. “In there...”

Franky carefully flipped the lid - buried inside the foam-lined esky was an old leather boot with a severed human’s middle finger perfectly packed in dry ice, along with a note:

_You questioned my integrity, _

_And now the Matriarch is dead._

_Long live the Matriarch!_

_\- Krampusz._

“Fucking hell!” Franky shouted as she backed away from the box, standing alongside Erica, looking totally repulsed. “It’s Tess’ finger! This is what Krampus meant when he said he would punish us!”

“Krampus can’t possibly be that cruel.”

“You really believe he’s incapable of such brutality?”

“I’ll call Lachlan and find out what we need to do.”

Franky waited, eying off the box from a distance with distaste, hoping Erica was right. The thought of Krampus intentionally hurting Tess just to make a point, sickened her greatly.

Erica returned a few minutes later. “Lachlan said to seal the box up tight to prevent further decomposing of the digit and bring it with us to the Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine ASAP, where he and Daniel Bailey will be waiting for us.” She waited patiently for an acknowledgment and realised Franky was too distraught to answer. “Hey,” she placed her hand on Franky’s shoulder. “I’ll take over, why don’t you go downstairs and warm up the car and I’ll meet you in a few minutes, okay?”

Franky nodded and headed down to the carpark, her distress soon giving way to dismay when she discovered her car wasn’t there. She checked the roller door and discovered someone had tampered with it during the night.

“Well, that’s just fucking great!”

“What’s great?”

Franky jumped in fright at the sound of Erica’s voice from behind her.

“Someone’s stolen my car. Who would want to pinch my shit heap when yours is more appealing?”

“Our downstairs neighbours told me last week there’s been a spate of robberies in the area recently, where cars are being stolen and used for illegal drag racing.”

“Lucky me. I don’t even get to experience the joy of trashing my own car.”

“We’ll take my car and report yours stolen to the police after we’ve met up with Lachlan and Daniel.”

**** **** ****

“What’s the score, Dan? Is it a child’s finger?” McMahon knew the answer just by looking at the digit. He had seen many bodies over the years and knew the difference between a child’s and adult’s finger, but out of old habits, he was following through with police procedures.

Daniel finished examining the severed digit and sealed it in a container filled with embalming liquid. “The digit belongs to a woman, whom I would estimate to be in her fifties.”

Franky breathed a sigh of relief. “I really thought it was Tess’ middle finger - like Krampus purposely used it as a gesture to say ‘fuck you’.”

“No, it’s the pinkie, although to the untrained eye, I can understand how you would think that.”

“I’d say that was his intention, Franky,” said McMahon. “You’ll now think twice before challenging him again.”

Daniel removed his surgical gloves. “Also, judging by how well the digit was severed and preserved, I’d say you’re dealing with someone who knows what they’re doing. Your guy has access to dry ice, the correct instruments, and has enough medical knowledge to conduct a clean amputation.”

“So Krampus is medically trained?” Erica asked.

“Possibly. The digit indicates the person died recently, so a coroner would have signed off on the death at some point. I’d recommend putting in a call to the Department of Births, Deaths and Marriages, then progress to the morgues, hospitals, etc.”

“Thanks, Dan,” said McMahon. “We haven’t had this conversation, right?”

“Conversation? What conversation?”

“We owe you one.”

“Just add it to Bridget’s tab. Actually...” Daniel frowned and scratched his chin, deep in thought. He snapped on a fresh pair of surgical gloves and walked over to a wall, pulling out a long rectangular stainless steel drawer. “This poor soul came in half an hour ago which I think may interest you.”

McMahon hobbled over on his crutches and lifted the sheet. “Jesus! What happened, Dan?” Franky and Erica headed over, but McMahon held up his hand. “No, stay over there. You do not want to see this.”

“According to the police report, she was doused in petrol and burned to death in a suspected stolen car with no number plates. An off-duty firefighter tried to rescue her, but was hindered due to the victim being handcuffed to the steering wheel.”

“So it’s a cold-blooded murder. Any identification?”

“No, either she wasn’t carrying any, or the fire destroyed it.”

“What has this got to do with us? The digit we brought you is fresh.”

Daniel carefully held up the deceased’s left hand. “She’s missing her leftpinkie, but the stump where the finger was severed from the hand, is completely burnt.”

“Meaning the finger was removed before she was burned to death.”

“Precisely. I’d need to conduct DNA tests on both the cadaver and digit to confirm if they’re related.”

Franky saw the charred hand and rushed over, but McMahon stopped her from going any further. “What’s got into you? I specifically said not to come over.”

Franky ignored him and pushed forward. “I know who that is,” she said as she pointed to the engagement band with a cracked heart-shaped zirconia on the ring finger. “That’s my mother, Nadia!”


	5. No One Is Inaccessible

“Today’s been an action-packed adventure,” Franky said as she entered the apartment. “I wonder what ol’ Krampus has in store for us tomorrow?”

Erica closed the door behind her. “You were quiet the whole trip home. Do you want to talk about what has happened?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Franky held one hand around Erica’s waist, as she entwined the fingers of her other hand through Erica’s, and engaged her in a quick waltz around the lounge room. “Ding-dong, the witch is dead, which old witch?”

“Franky...”

“Nope, guess again?” Erica refused to sing along, so Franky continued. “The wicked witch. Ding-dong, the wicked witch is dead!”

Erica stepped away from her. “Stop it!”

“Okay, I’ll admit the song was in bad taste. Maybe you can advise me how I’m supposed to react? Should I start with some crocodile tears and wing it from there?”

“How about seeing Nadia’s death as some sort of closure?”

“Nup, no can do. I thought she died years ago, and it didn’t point me in the right direction, so I hardly think it will help now.”

“I can’t get over how Krampus wanted to teach you a lesson by killing Nadia because she was the matriarch of your family.”

“Yeah, well, the joke’s on him - Nadia’s no fucking matriarch. That said, remind me to thank Krampus the next time he calls, because he did me a huge favour. Just don’t expect me to feel any guilt over her death.”

“Fair enough, but promise you’ll talk to me should you feel the need to vent, okay?”

“Only if you promise me you’ll never waste a single minute feeling sorry for that old cow, because I can assure you I won’t.”

“I’m worried for you.”

Franky sighed. “Yeah, I get that and I know I’m sounding like an insensitive bitch, but this is my way of dealing with Nadia’s death, okay? Just let me use my sarcastic humour as a coping mechanism until I can get my head around it all.”

“Maybe Bridget can help?”

“What, with the humour? She reckons I’m beyond help.” Franky chuckled. “Look, if it will help you sleep better, I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“And in the meantime?”

“Let’s kick back and watch a movie together. Don’t know why, but I have this sudden urge to watch ‘The Wizard of Oz’.”

_You better watch out_

_You better not cry_

_You better not pout_

“What is it with these late night calls?” Erica asked.

_I’m telling you why_

_Santa Claus is comin’ to town_

“Yeah, even the Tin Man has more heart than this prick.” Franky answered the phone but before she could say anything, Krampus jumped in first.

“_Hello, Franky, heard you had a rough day. Let me be the first to offer you my condolences.”_

“No need to, however, I would like to thank you for a job well done.”

_“I... you’re not upset?”_

“Absolutely! I loved that car.”

_“I meant about your mother.”_

“Why should I be? It’s not like Nadia was a real mother. That said, you owe me a new car. Y’know, scratch that last comment. I want a motorcycle.”

_“I’ll compromise. How does a free ride in the back of a hearse sound to you?”_

“Real funny, Krampus. I think you need to shut the fuck up now and let me speak to Tess.”

_“She’s asleep.”_

“Wake her up. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

_“You still don’t trust me? Okay, send me a photo of the next clue and as a reward I’ll send you proof Tess is still alive. Now you can shut the fuck up about Tess, because it’s_ _time to play another round of Fortune Teller. Pick a colour, any colour.”_

“What are you, a game show host, now?”

_“Red, it is. R - E - D. Want to pick a number, or shall I do that, too?”_

“Eight.”

_“One - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight. Guess what I will ask next?”_

“Why don’t you choose for me?”

_“Love that sarcastic undertone you have going on there, Franky. Four sounds like a nice, round number._“ Krampus opened the flap and read the fortune._ “Walk the plank.”_

“Which means?”

_“Not all compasses serve a purpose, yet they may appear lost without one.”_

“It’s obviously a pirate reference,” Franky said to Erica as she pocketed the mobile. “There’s only one place I can think of which may have a plank, and that’s the tall ship,_ Polly Woodside_, although I’m reasonably sure it was never a pirate ship.”

“Why would Krampus think up such a place? First Luna Park and now a pretend pirate ship. It’s like he’s reliving his childhood.”

“I have a theory, but it’s too soon to be sure. I’ll get back to you on that one.”

The following morning, they drove into the city and walked alongside the Yarra River to the South Wharf Promenade, arriving at the Polly Woodside Museum. A long line of parents with their eager children greeted them upon their arrival.

“The place has only just opened for the day,” Erica said. “The _Polly Woodside_ is berthed out back on the Yarra River. Go through and have a look around before it gets too crowded, while I’ll wait in line to pay for our admission tickets.”

Franky fed the lady at the desk a lie about needing to use the restroom due to morning sickness and snuck out the back entrance. She strolled along the docks around the outer perimeter of the ship, noticing a couple of children dressed in pirate costumes and wielding plastic swords play-fighting one another. Erica turned up with two tickets a couple of minutes later.

“That was quick.”

“The strangest thing just happened. A volunteer led me to the front of the queue and asked me when your baby’s due?”

Franky laughed. “Did you tell them you’re the father?” She pointed at the two children. “What was I saying about _Polly Woodside_ not being a pirate ship?”

“The same volunteer said they have a pirate day on the first Sunday of every month to help drum up business, so expect it to be busy.”

“It will make our job harder to find a compass and clue. Let’s hope one of the kiddies doesn’t discover it before we do.”

“Most people are exploring the museum first, so that should buy us some time. Otherwise, the timetable in the brochure mentions there’s a tour starting in fifteen minutes. Maybe we can join and ask whether there’s a compass kept on board?”

“Nah, I want to have a good poke around without some guide telling me off. Is there a map in the brochure?”

“Yes, but it’s very basic. Did you know _Polly Woodside_ was built in Belfast in 1885 and operated as a cargo vessel sailing around the world?”

“Wow, how exciting!”

“And get this, it changed ownership many times until its final resting place in Melbourne where the National Trust of Australia purchased the ship for one cent in 1968!”

Franky laughed. “Oh, stop it! Your inner nerd is turning me on.”

“One cent, Franky! I’ve always wanted a yacht. There’s something romantic about sailing the seven seas.”

“As long as it comes with a bottomless vomit bag.” Franky followed Erica up the steep gangway to the top. “Do we go left or right?”

Erica looked at the brochure once more. “You mean the stern or bow?”

“Layman’s terms. Left or right?”

“Left, because that’s where the helm is located to steer the ship and I should imagine it’s where we’ll find a compass.”

Franky raced ahead and leaped upon a wooden platform, placing both hands on the wheel. “I’m commandeering this ship for illegal shenanigans and sexual orgies. Where to, my First Mate?”

Erica jumped up behind her, placing both arms around Franky’s waist and whispered in her ear, “How about the Captain’s Quarters?”

“You’re just saying that to get into the Captain’s pants. I should make you walk the plank.”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have our own yacht moored off an island in the middle of nowhere?”

“If you can find another ship for one cent, I’ll captain it and you can be my wench. Back to reality, there doesn’t appear to be any compasses lying around.”

Erica pointed to a nearby entrance. “I wonder where those stairs lead to?”

“Inside the ship?”

“Wow, you’re in fine form, today.”

“I promise I’ll be back to my usual self tomorrow.” Franky navigated her way down the narrow metal staircase where she spotted a map of the aft’s accommodation, taped to a wall.

“There’s two long passageways. Which one should we take first?” Erica asked.

“Doesn’t really matter. According to this map, both passageways lead through to the Master’s Saloon. You take the port side and check out the First and the Second Mate’s Cabins, Pilot’s Cabin, and bathroom, and I’ll check out the rest along the starboard. Assuming we find nothing, we’ll meet up in the Master’s Saloon once finished.”

“Master’s Saloon?”

“I think it’s a fancy name for the Captain’s dining room.”

Franky picked her way through the Apprentices’ Cabin, Cook/Steward’s Room, and Pantry, leaving the Master’s Cabin until last, reasoning that a compass would be amongst the Captain’s possessions.

“This beats the shitty accommodation provided to the crew on deck,” Franky said to herself, as she rifled through the Captain’s mahogany desk drawers and small cabinets under the raised bunk. Even though the Master’s Cabin was not much bigger than the cells at Wentworth, it came with plenty of added luxuries. “Hey, Erica, you gotta check this out! This Captain gets her own bathtub! There’s only room for one, but I’ll let you scrub my back.”

_“Franky, I think I’ve found it!”_

“The compass?” Franky entered the Master’s Saloon to find Erica standing on her tippy toes, looking up at a brass lamp attached to the wall, above the fireplace.

“Sort of.” Erica pointed to the frosted glass globe which had a compass etched into it. “Krampus said not all compasses serve a purpose, yet they may appear lost without one.”

“What makes you think this is the one?”

“Because it has the letters L - O - S - T within the design of the compass.”

“I reckon Krampus has a thing for using light bulbs.”

Franky dragged a dining room chair over and gripped it in place as Erica removed her shoes and placed a foot on each armrest to give her the extra height required to reach and twist the glass globe away from its brass fittings.

“Is this a good time to tell you I can see up your skirt and that I’m traumatised you’re wearing underwear?”

“Depends. Is this a good time for me to drop the globe on your head?”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Franky placed the frosted globe Erica had just handed to her on the seat.

“I can see some writing!”

“Here, use this.” Franky ripped a ‘No Smoking’ sign off the wall and handed it up to Erica.

Erica turned the sign upside down and placed the blank side a few centimetres above the light. “It says, ‘Who come ill-prepared’.” She used her handkerchief to unscrew the light bulb, and handed it down to Franky, before replacing the glass globe back in its slot. Franky examined the bulb as Erica jumped down off the chair. “Ill-prepared for what?”

“No idea.” Franky took a photo of the bulb and sent it off to Krampus. Moments later, the burner mobile pinged. “He’s efficient, if nothing else.”

She opened the photo attachment which showed Tess sitting on the edge of a bed, smiling and holding up a copy of a newspaper with the headline, ‘Child Still Missing’, with a large headshot of Tess.

The events of the last few days had finally caught up with Franky, and tears rolled down both cheeks at seeing her sister alive and smiling like she was at a sleepover, having fun.

Erica held her close, trying to sooth her. “Hey, baby, that’s today’s paper. At least we know she’s okay.”

“I feel so helpless. What have I done that he needs to punish me like this? Krampus will win this game and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“We’ll find her, and Tess will be back home pestering you to buy her ice cream and to build tents out of the sheets and furniture. Remember that time when she hid your phone and refused to hand it over until you sang ‘Fruit Salad’ with her? She’s probably got Krampus singing songs, too.”

Franky sniggered at the thought. “Yeah, she’s a persistent kid. Hopefully, she’s driving Krampus nuts with those kiddie tunes.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

Franky nodded, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of her shirt, and returned the chair to its original place. “I’ll have to, won’t I? Besides, we need to leave as I can hear the tour group coming down the passageway.”

**** **** ****

Krampus mingled amongst inebriated staff at the company’s Christmas masquerade party like he had worked there for many years. Scanning the room for his target, it relieved him to note that the person in question wasn’t there. Smiling to himself, he knew where his target would be, grateful that his source, as per usual, was correct.

_I create my own luck._

Acting the role of a perfect gentleman, Krampus afforded time to ask one of the older ladies for a dance.

“You dance like Fred Astaire, Mr... I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name,” Melissa said, as he twirled her around in perfect sync to the music.

“Just call me Clive. I find the whole formality of titles displeasing.”

“Fine, Clive. What department did you say you are from?”

“I’m from Sydney, replacing one of the long-term staff here while he’s on long service leave.”

_There, that should satisfy the bitch’s curiosity_.

What he didn’t expect, was the clear look of suspicion now etched upon her face. Krampus followed her line of vision downwards, to see her staring at his identification badge clipped to his belt. Even though Krampus wore a mask to disguise his face, his chosen victim was significantly shorter than him. Realising he may have blown his cover, he broke away from the dance, and offered to get her a drink.

“I don’t think so, Clive. Follow me, please.”

A lesser man would have panicked. Instead, Krampus found the lure too great a temptation and followed her into the nearby deserted staff room.

Melissa closed the door behind him. “Please remove your mask.”

“What for? I’m Clive Dorset,” he said with an air of confidence.

“No, I’ve known Clive Dorset for many years, and you’re not him. I don’t know who you are, but it’s time I called security.”

She reached for the internal wall phone, but never made it. Krampus approached her from behind and strangled her with his garrote, killing her in mere seconds. _Just another casualty of war_, he reasoned. Pity, because he found her attractive, despite her advanced years.

Krampus locked the door to prevent anyone from entering, then dragged the body into the women’s toilets, where he propped her upon the toilet seat, arranging her legs so no one could see her from underneath the door. It was then he noticed her ID badge and pocketed it, assuming her higher clearance allowed greater access to the whole building.

“Your selfless sacrifice will aid in the completion of my hit list, Melissa Atkins, just like your dear friend, Clive Dorset,” Krampus said as he stuffed a Christmas card in the pocket of her jacket.

Krampus jammed an empty toilet roll between the lock and door frame to prevent the door from opening, then peeled the ‘Out Of Order’ sign from the hand dryer and stuck it to the cubicle door, hoping no one would discover the body until he completed his primary objective and was safely out of the hot zone.

With time now against him, Krampus left the staff room and manoeuvred his way through the crowd to the foyer and lifts. Taking a quick look around to ensure no one followed him, he applied Melissa’s pass to the elevator’s security panel and took the lift down to the basement, surprised just how easy his infiltration into the enemy’s territory had been.

_No one is inaccessible._

The sound of laughter prompted him to duck into a cleaner’s closet, just as a woman left the room next door and walked along the corridor towards the lifts. Waiting until she stepped aboard, he then made his move.

His victim never saw him coming. Sitting at his work desk with his headphones on, the victim had returned to his busy workload, a dopey smile plastered across his face from the delicious distraction only minutes earlier.

The first his victim knew of his own dire predicament, was the abrupt cut to his oxygen supply as Krampus wrapped the wire around his neck and pulled back hard with the wooden handles. Natural instincts told him to fight, but the wire was dug too deep into his neck, preventing him from being able to slip his fingers under the wire to loosen it. They say when you’re in danger, your life flashes before your eyes, but if the victim had survived, he would have vigorously objected to that foolish sentiment; for the last thought the victim had, was not of all his achievements in his own miserable life, but of the one woman who meant more to him than life itself: Bridget Westfall_._

“One down, five to go,” Krampus said to himself as he retrieved a small notepad from his inner pocket and crossed Daniel Bailey’s name from _The Hit List_.

**** **** ****

Erica was rummaging through the bedside drawers in the master bedroom looking for the first light bulb from Luna Park, when she stumbled across the handgun McMahon had given Franky.

“What the hell? Franky!”

Moments later, Franky rushed through the bedroom door; the look of being caught out, evident.

“You brought a gun into this house?”

“Erica, I…”

“What the hell were you thinking? If the police find this here, you’ll wind up back in Wentworth!”

“Please let me explain...”

“Is it loaded?”

“No, of course not.”

“Where did you get this from?”

“McMahon.”

“Oh, that’s just terrific. Wait until I see him next.” Erica walked out of the bedroom with the gun still in her possession.

“Where are you going? Will you listen to me for one minute?”

“We can’t keep this here, Franky. Gun laws are very strict in the state of Victoria, more so, if you’re an ex-con.”

“I’m not getting rid of it.” Franky defiantly stood her ground as she snatched the gun away from Erica, ready to take it further, but the doorbell interrupted their standoff.

_“It’s me, McMahon. Quick, open the door!”_

“Looks like you’ll get your chance to speak to him.” Franky placed the gun on the entrance table, before unlocking the front door.

McMahon stood awkwardly with a crutch under his right arm, while using his other arm to support Bridget as she leaned against him, crying hysterically. “Help me bring her in.”

Franky wrapped Bridget’s free arm around her shoulder and helped carry her inside, easing her down on the lounge suite. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”

“Krampus killed Daniel Bailey,” Bridget said, as she sobbed into Franky’s shoulder.

There was silence as everyone digested the implications of those four words.

McMahon broke the silence. “Listen, I don’t think Bridget should be alone for the next few days.”

“She can stay here,” Erica said as she went to the kitchen.

“I was hoping you’d say that. We took a taxi here, and I had to leave her belongings downstairs in the foyer. I’ll be back in a moment, then we need to sit down and talk.”

Franky wrapped her arms around Bridget’s shoulders, hugging her closely. “I’m so sorry, Gidge.”

Erica returned from the kitchen with a shot of scotch for Bridget. “Here, take this, it will help calm the nerves.”

“Are you positive it was him?” Franky asked.

Bridget downed the scotch in one go. “There was a fucking Christmas card signed from Krampus near Daniel’s body, I’d say that’s a strong sign that he’s responsible!”

“Ease up, Gidge. I didn’t know...”

“No, l’m sorry, Franky… it’s been a long night.”

“Maybe get some rest? We can talk more in the morning,” Franky suggested. Bridget nodded, being too tired to object.

McMahon limped through the door with a small suitcase. “Please put those in the spare room, McMahon,” Franky said, as she led Bridget to the same room.

A few minutes later, Franky, Erica and McMahon gathered in the lounge room. McMahon went over Daniel’s grisly death, along with Clive Dorset and Melissa Atkins.

“I was on security tonight and we lost power to all the CCTV cameras. Whoever this Krampus is, he knows how to corrupt electronics.”

“Bridget said there was a Christmas card signed by Krampus. What was the message and were the police able to lift any fingerprints?” Franky asked McMahon.

“No prints. The message read, ‘Welcome to the Hit List - Krampus.’”

“What’s the connection between Daniel, Melissa and Clive?”

“Other than receiving a Christmas card welcoming them to The Hit List? They all work in the same department as me, but I believe Melissa and Clive were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think Dan was the intended target and they somehow got in the way.”

“But Daniel is Bridget’s friend. Why would Krampus want to kill him?” Erica asked McMahon.

“Maybe Krampus believes you girls broke the rules when Dan was brought into the game.”

Franky shook her head. “But you brought him into the game, not us. Why aren’t you dead?”

“Only Krampus can answer that question.”

“Remember after our trip to Luna Park when Krampus called to play Fortune Teller?” Erica reminded Franky. “The fortune was, ‘no one is inaccessible’. All that security at the Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine, and yet Krampus still managed to kill Daniel. It’s like he’s trying to make a point that no one is safe.”

“So until the police catch this nutcase, everyone in this household is in danger?”

“No, Franky. Remember what I told you earlier - that you and Erica should be safe, for the time being. He needs both of you there until the end because you’re part of his game.”

“Assuming you’re correct. But where does that leave you and Bridget?”

“We’re the expendable pawns in his game. Look, I have to do some more digging, see what else I can find.” McMahon spotted the gun lying on the entrance table. “Might be a good idea to keep that out of sight.”

After seeing McMahon out, Erica retrieved the gun from the table and held it in her hands; surprised at the weight and the coldness of the steel, the thought sending a chill down her spine.

“Do you know how to use one of these things?”

“Yeah, but it’s been many years. A throwback from my troubled youth,” Franky added, hoping to soothe Erica’s uneasiness.

“Okay.” She handed Franky the gun. “I’ll talk to McMahon about getting it registered in my name, but in the meantime, put it away and let’s hope we never have to use it.”

There was another knock on the door. “It’s me, again,” McMahon called out. Franky opened the door, and he handed her another box. “I forgot I left this out on the landing.”

Franky held the pet carrier up to eye level and sighed. Staring back at her in between the crisscrossed wired door, were two pairs of beady eyes.

“I think I’m gonna have to invest in a pair of chainmaille gloves.”


	6. The Dragon Slayer

Franky joined Bridget as she sat on the lounge suite with Morticia and Gomez curled up and asleep in her lap.

“How do you get them to behave and not bite?”

“I talk to them a lot. They’re great listeners and don’t talk back, plus it relaxes me to have them around.”

“Whatever you say.” Franky hesitantly reached out and scratched Morticia behind the ear. She quickly retracted her hand when the ferret raised its head and yawned, revealing its pointed teeth, before settling down to sleep again. “How are you feeling this morning, Gidge?”

Bridget sighed heavily. “The good news is I’m over the shock, but the bad news is I’m now dealing with the guilt.”

“Do I need to tell you it wasn’t your fault?”

“I know Danny died because of Krampus, and I know you’re looking out for me, but I promise I’ll talk when I’m ready.”

“A beautiful woman I once dated said psychologists make the worst patients.”

“Yeah, and she can’t even bill anyone to help ease the pain,” Bridget scoffed. “Enough about me, have you given any more thought towards Nadia?”

“Erica broke the good news, huh?”

“She’s worried about you, and so am I.”

“Then you should ask if my feelings have changed towards Nadia now she’s gone. The answer is no. It comforts me knowing she’ll harm no one again. Does that make me cold?”

“No, just someone who has a clear vision despite the circumstances.”

“Maybe you can convince Erica I’m not bottling it all up which will eventuate in me doing something rash and stupid.”

Bridget laughed. “Since when have you needed a reason to act upon being rash and stupid?”

“Hey, that accusation would offend me if it weren’t true.”

“I’ll put her mind at rest. What’s that you have in your hand?”

“Something which will annoy Erica.”

“What will annoy me?” Erica asked as she walked into the lounge room.

“After last night’s events, I’d say Krampus is due to ring and I think he’ll ask you to choose our fortune.” Franky stood up and handed Erica a small piece of paper. “I want you to tell him this combination.”

Erica read the note. “What’s the point when we suspect Krampus is rigging the game?”

“Just in case. Look, it’s bad enough my choices could harm Tess, and I don’t want you in the same predicament. Tess is my sister, so it should always be my decision.”

“That’s why I should make the choice and not you.”

“This isn’t up for discussion, Erica.”

“Bridget, back me up here. Tell her she’s wrong on this one.”

“Franky’s put a lot of thought into her decision and we both need to respect that.”

“But surely you can’t agree?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. This is Franky’s call.”

The mobile rang with its familiar tune, and Franky handed the mobile to Erica. “Do it.”

“Hello?”

_“Hello, Erica. It’s your turn to do the honours._” He held up the fortune teller. “_Choose your colour_.”

Erica hesitated and Franky shot her a pleading look.

“_Make the choice, or I’ll choose for you_,” Krampus prompted her.

“Okay... green.”

“_G - R - E - E - N. Pick a number_.”

“Two.”

“_One - Two. What’s your fortune?_”

“Six.”

“_That wasn’t so hard, was it? Your fortune for today is, ‘Slay the Dragon’._”

Once again, Krampus disconnected the call before they could ask him questions.

“I know that was hard for you, but thanks for respecting my decision.”

Erica nodded and dropped the phone back on the coffee table. “Slay the dragon? I think someone needs to break it to Krampus that dragons don’t exist.”

“Not Tess, she loves dragons and believes they’re real.”

“Didn’t you ever get around to telling her they’re a fairy tale?”

“She’s five years old, what do you think?” Franky wrote ‘Slay the Dragon’ and its combination on their list.

“Where are we going to find a dragon? Other than one of Tess’ fairy tale books on the shelf?”

“That would have to be Fairy Park. Alan and I took Tess there for her fifth birthday last month and she’s been hounding me to buy her a dragon. I’ll bet she told Krampus, and he’s used that against us, like he has with everything else.”

“Is this the theory you mentioned yesterday?” Erica asked.

“Yes. I think he’s basing these fortunes upon Tess’ favourite things.”

“It makes sense given Krampus credits Tess for giving him the idea for the game,” Bridget said.

“So Luna Park and Polly Woodside were also- “

“Favourite places which she has recently visited.” Franky retrieved the car keys from the entrance table. “We’ll need to visit a hardware store and buy some rope. I’d invite you along, Gidge, but you know the rules. Will you be okay on your own, or do you want us to drop you off at Lydia’s place along the way?”

“Thanks, but I need to contact Danny’s family to offer my condolences and if need be, assist with the funeral arrangements. I’ll notify McMahon of the latest developments, but please, be careful.”

An hour out of Melbourne, and Erica grew impatient as Franky drove down a country back road towards Anakie. “Are we there, yet?”

“Geez, you sound like Tess. Let me guess, you need to pee, right?” Erica nodded. “Another ten minutes. Think your ageing bladder can hold that long?”

“If not, you can clean up the mess. So what is Fairy Park?”

“You should have come to Tess’ party.”

“Work commitments, remember?”

“It’s a theme park based upon fairy tales. Characters such as Red Riding Hood, Pinocchio and Puss in Boots come to life as animatronic dolls, displayed in iconic scenes. Except Snow White. All that chick ever does is sleep.” Franky chuckled. “They’re set behind large panels of glass in displays shaped like gingerbread houses and overgrown toadstools, nestled amongst tall gumtrees. There’s even a large walk-through castle for Cinderella, and a beanstalk next to a cliff face for Jack to climb.”

“And the dragon’s name is Puff, right?”

“Now you’re catching on. See that small mountain in the distance?” Franky pointed ahead of them. “That’s Fairy Park. The displays are built into the hillside and you walk along a paved pathway to get to each scene. I suppose it would be cool to a five-year-old, but the music drove me nuts ‘cause the tunes got stuck inside my head for the next three days.”

“Sounds to me you enjoyed yourself.”

“Nah, I reckon the place would be kinda creepy when it’s deserted. Those dolls look like they come to life after the park closes and party hard.”

Erica laughed. “Didn’t you ever see Toy Story? They were sweet.”

“I can tell you’ve never seen Child’s Play. There’s a doll there which I swear is Chucky.”

Franky swung the car into a small car park outside Fairy Park. A three-metre-high wizard made of fibreglass with a long white beard and dressed in a red cloak, blue pants and black pointed hat, sat on a wall near the entrance greeting them with a sign saying ‘Closed’.

“Looks like we’ll have to walk the rest of the way,” Franky said as she placed the rope over her shoulder.

“Does this mean we need to climb the fence to get in?”

“Worse.” Franky gripped the cyclone fencing with both hands, placing one foot through the wire, readying to heave herself up and over. “It means those little fuckers have come to life and already started the party without us.” She leaped down over the other side and waited patiently as Erica took her time climbing over the fence.

“Is it far?”

“About a fifteen-minute walk as we still need to get to the pathway entrance, which starts near the BBQ and play area. From memory, the dragon is near the top of the mountain.” Franky could read what was on Erica’s mind. “Find an alternative as they lock the toilets after hours.” She laughed as Erica bolted for a bush with plenty of foliage. “And watch out for snakes!”

Franky waited under the shade provided by the gumtrees in the BBQ area. “Heya, you’ll never guess what? The dunnys are unlocked!” Erica wiped her hands on Franky’s back as she walked past. “What was that for?”

“Just cleaning my hands.”

Franky shrugged. “It’s your t-shirt, anyway.”

Half way up the mountain, Franky spotted a large red boot big enough for an adult to stand up inside, and squealed and pointed like a little kid. “There! That’s the one!”

“I don’t see any dragons, only Mother Hubbard’s boot.”

“Remember when we talked about kids putting out a boot out on the windowsill on Saint Nicholas Eve? That’s the size of the boot I would use!”

“Which the good angel would diligently ignore because you couldn’t go an entire year without being naughty.”

“You can talk! The good angel is a pervert if it knows we’ve both been naughty. Although it may explain why we got stuck with Krampus, instead.”

Further along the path and they saw Chucky impersonating the Mad Hatter in amongst the Alice in Wonderland display. “Creepy, huh? Franky said. “You just have to imagine him with a shorter nose and wielding a large kitchen knife instead of a teapot and cup.”

Erica agreed. “Now there’s a doll I wouldn’t trust when I’m sound asleep at night.”

“I reckon he’s masquerading as the Mad Hatter, but now that his cover’s blown, he’ll need to find another character to possess. His intention is to control the whole park and lead a rebellion of dolls to rise up and eradicate the entire human race.”

“I’d hate to hear the bedtime stories you read to Tess when she stays over.”

“Are you kidding? I’m a masterful storyteller! If you’re a good girl, I’ll tell you a bedtime story later.”

The heat of the midday sun beat down upon them as they made their way up the steep slope until the pathway opened out to a large clearing near the top of the mountain. Puff the Magic Dragon crouched upon a flat rock surface overlooking all the other exhibits. His bright green and scaly body had lavender pointed plates from the back of his head, down the long neck, and along his spine to the tip of his tail.

“I can see why Tess likes him,” Erica said.

“I remember asking Tess how can a dragon this big fly with tiny green wings, and do you know what she said? ‘Because he’s a magic dragon, you silly billy!’”

“Ouch! Outsmarted by a five-year-old!” Erica laughed.

“Puff’s eyes are bulbs which light up red and smoke blows out of his nostrils during the park’s opening hours.” Franky approached the dragon and calculated the height of its back to be about thirty centimetres higher than her. “You’ll need to give me a leg up.”

“Have you figured out how to slay the dragon yet?”

“Yep, we need to blind it.”

“Do you think there’s another message written on the light bulb like the ones at Luna Park and Polly Woodside?”

“It’s the one item which remains consistent.” Franky unravelled the rope and tied a hoop on one end. After several attempts, she lassoed the rope around the dragon’s head, pulling down hard, to ensure it could hold her weight. She then tied the other end to the front of her belt and Erica helped hoist her up onto the dragon’s back.

“I feel I should say something to mark this momentous occasion. Perhaps give myself a title,” Franky quipped.

“How about Silly Billy?”

“Nah, I dub thyself, The Dragon Slayer.”

Erica watched as Franky used the rope to ascend the long neck and then gripped the horns of the dragon’s head, using one of the pointed plates as a platform to balance her feet upon.

“Okay, this is awkward, I can’t see the dragon’s face.”

Erica guided her vocally as she used one hand to feel her way around the dragon’s face from behind until she found the dragon’s eye. She unscrewed the bulb and examined it.

“Nothing.”

“Try the other one.”

“Easier said than done,” The bulb slipped through her sweaty fingers, and smashed to pieces as it hit the ground. Unscrewing the second bulb brought success. “Bullseye! There’s a message, but again, it’s too small to read it. I’ll toss this down to you. No pressure, but whatever you do, don’t drop it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Not much choice given I need both hands to get back down again.”

“No pressure,” Erica mumbled to herself as she positioned herself underneath. “Ready.”

Erica caught the bulb and Franky shimmied safely down the dragon’s neck and jumped to the ground. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What about the rope? We can’t leave it dangling like this.”

“You’re right, how careless of me.” Franky retrieved the free end of the rope and tied it to a nearby handrail. “That should ensure Puff won’t be able to fly away.”

Erica remained sombre during the trip back home, preferring to gaze outside the car window.

“You’re quiet. Are you annoyed at me for tethering the dragon to the railing? Cause we can always go back and set it free.” Franky chuckled.

“No.” She held up the red bulb. “I can’t believe you trusted me to catch this.”

“Are you still harping on about that?”

“What if I had missed it?”

“You didn’t though, did you? Look, you wouldn’t have dropped it on purpose. That’s what counts.”

“But the clue is too precious to afford the risk.”

“I suppose I could have stuffed it down my bra, but I put my faith in you.” Franky rested one hand on Erica’s right thigh and the other on the steering wheel. “I don’t get it. You’re an absolute champion at defending people’s rights in the courtroom, yet you don’t believe in yourself. I’ve seen you in action - you’re ruthless towards anyone taking advantage of the little people, and I love you dearly for it. But what about you? When are you going to cut yourself a break and realise it’s okay to rely on others? To rely on me? I’m not sure what else I can do or say to help you overcome these obstacles.”

Erica pushed Franky’s hand away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Franky realised her mistake too late. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“If there are other issues, then you need to tell me. No more secrets, remember? Those were your exact words when we were first reunited.”

_Help! I’m about to walk blindfolded into a fucking minefield here!_

“Okay, for starters, whenever I bring up certain subjects, you’re always quick to change the topic.”

“Such as?”

“Kids. I reckon you would be one of those women who would look glam being pregnant.”

Erica scoffed. “Not going to happen.”

“What, the glam or the pregnant part?”

“Neither.”

“Do you want kids?”

“I don’t have time for this discussion, right now.”

“Given we’re stuck in a car together for the next hour, I think you can make the time. l’ve noticed that each time I broach the subject, you either feign disinterest or change the topic. I kinda get the impression you don’t want them.”

“A moment ago you were criticising my lack of reliance on others.”

“It was an observation, not a criticism and you’re trying to change the topic again. So much for no more secrets.”

Erica shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not the end of the world if I don’t want children, right?”

“Well, no, but-“

“What the hell gives you the right to decide it should be me to carry the child? What if I don’t want children? I’m so sick of people who judge childless women as being selfish. It’s as if that’s the only reason l’m put on this earth and l’ve failed in life as a human being if I don’t procreate!”

“Wow, that’s one hell of a reaction! Okay, so you don’t want children, no need to bite my head off.”

“I’m sorry.” Erica rubbed her temples. “It’s just that I’ve been dreading having this conversation.”

“And here I was thinking I was making improvements in the approachable department. Looks like l’m wrong.”

“You are approachable, and you’re so patient and understanding towards me...”

“Yet you still continue to be evasive. Look, there’s a lot more to it than you’re letting on. Talk to me, Erica, and I promise l’ll listen and not judge you for it.”

Erica looked out the window once more, the tears now flowing.

Franky reached over and held Erica’s hand in her own. “It breaks my heart to see you cry. What can I do to make things better?”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“Try me.”

Several minutes passed before Erica worked up the courage to speak. “I lied to you - about the reason for leaving Mark.”

“You mean about not loving him?”

“No, that part was true. But that wasn’t the only reason we split up. As you know, I married Mark not long after I left Wentworth and we wanted to do the whole family thing, but had trouble conceiving. Then I visited a specialist and discovered I have primary ovarian insufficiency.”

“Is that like a premature menopause?”

“No, essentially it means my ovaries don’t function properly, and my chances of conceiving naturally, is extremely slim.”

“Oh, Erica, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to, but experience has shown me that some people become uncomfortable once they learn of my predicament, and unintentionally or not, treat me different. It hurts to accept I can’t have children of my own, and then to have people make me feel less of a woman, hits me hard. It’s as if I’m broken.”

“People like that still exist?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Mark’s parents made subtle hints that he should find someone more suitable, and his cousin didn’t invite me to her baby shower because she wanted to avoid any possibility of me spoiling her special day. I found out about the baby shower afterwards, when she posted photos on social media.”

“It’s not your fault people are insensitive arseholes and never allow yourself to feel guilty over something you have no control over.”

“I know, but it doesn’t stop the hurt, and sometimes it gets me down.”

“So Mark left you because you couldn’t give him the one thing his parents wanted?”

Erica nodded. “It was important to him to please his parents by having an heir to carry on with the Pearson name, given he’s their only child.”

“And if he can’t have a child naturally with his own wife, then IVF and adoption wouldn’t cut it with someone like him. I’m really starting to dislike this prick and his shitty family.”

“It was a blessing, because I didn’t love him.” Erica smiled at Franky. “Fate had better plans for me.”

“No wonder you clammed up when I mentioned about having rugrats at the beach that time. Is that also the real reason you didn’t go to Tess’ birthday last month? Because of all the kids and their parents?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“No, you wanted to protect yourself from more pain. I get that now. What about when Tess comes around? How do you feel then?”

Erica reflected upon the memories of Franky and Tess playing games together. “I love watching the pair of you interact with one another, and think you would make a terrific mother, but it made it even harder to find the courage to tell you.”

“It’s funny you should say that. For years I was adamant I’d never have kids of my own. I mean... what kind of world would I be bringing them into? There’s so much hatred these days, and I didn’t think it would be fair to expose any child to that. At least that’s what I told myself.” Franky seemed reluctant to say what was on her mind.

“You’re afraid you’ll be like your parents?”

“Yeah, I figured if it’s in my genes, then it would be safer that I didn’t have kids. It was the only way to be sure that I could break the cycle of violence.”

To acknowledge that, indicates you would never allow yourself to be like them. You have a lot of love to give.”

“I know that now. Because of Tess, I understand the true meaning of unconditional love and what it feels like, and I could hurt no child, much less my own. Tell me, do you want kids?”

“Yes, but only with the right person.”

“I hope I’m that right person. So you would consider IVF and adoption?”

“With you? Absolutely.”

Franky squeezed Erica’s hand. “There’s another alternative - I could carry the child.”

“You would do that for me?”

“For the both of us, Erica. We’re family, and family always sticks together. Besides, it’s not like we need to decide straight away. I’d still like to have a lot more fun with you before we need to install a lock on our bedroom door.”

“Just when I think I couldn’t love you more, you give me another reason to do so.”

“Yeah, I am a real charmer. So, are there any more hidden surprises I should know? Preferably any kinks?”

Erica gave a wicked smile. “Well, twice I ventured into a club called ‘The Velvet Curtain’, but you wouldn’t want to know about that, would you?”

Franky gasped. “Fuck, you are full of surprises!”

They arrived home later that evening to find Bridget asleep with Morticia and Gomez on the lounge suite; a bottle of white wine depleted of its contents sitting on the coffee table.

Erica looked upon her with pity. “We shouldn’t have left her alone. Even a quick call to Lydia would have helped.”

“No, she needed the time out. She’ll be ready to talk in the morning and we’ll be here to listen.”

“Should we wake her up and put her to bed?”

“No way!” Franky chuckled as she draped a blanket over Bridget. “I woke her up once after we’d been on a bender together, and she threw the alarm clock at me. Gidge may be little, but she’s a fierce grouch when she’s half asleep!”

Erica strolled into the bedroom and stripped naked, not bothering to pick up her clothes off the floor. “What an exhausting day! I could sleep for a week.”

“Not tired enough to fool around, though?” Franky came up from behind and snapped one handcuff around Erica’s left wrist, pushing her onto the bed. She then threaded the chain around a wrought iron bar on the bedhead and cuffed Erica’s other wrist above her head.

“Franky, not tonight. I’m tired and Bridget’s asleep in the lounge room.”

“Want me to wake her up and invite her in for a threesome? I can assure you she’s excellent in bed.” Franky undressed and retrieved a purple and gold silk scarf along with and a brown paper bag from the bottom drawer of the dresser before climbing into bed.

“Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“Maybe I’m just looking for a good fuck with the two hottest girls on the planet.” Franky straddled Erica’s hips and blindfolded her with the silk scarf. “Seriously, don’t worry about Gidge, she’s a heavy sleeper and won’t be waking anytime, soon. More importantly, you’ve been a good girl today and I now owe you a bedtime story.”

“I would prefer to get some sleep.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, especially when they’re handcuffed to the bed, and besides, you’d be missing out on the best bedtime story, ever.”

“Really? What is it called?”

“It’s a fantasy titled, ‘The Dragon Slayer’.”

“Does it involve tethering anything to the post?”

“I’ve already done that twice today, already!” Franky laughed as Erica tried in vain to buck her off like a rodeo horse. “Ride ‘em cowboy! Kind of wish I kept the rope!”

“Fuck these handcuffs, you are in so much trouble!”

“Sssh,” Franky leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I’ll make a deal with you. Upon completion of the story, I’ll remove the cuffs and let you sleep, if that is what you still want.”

“It better be a bloody good story.”

Franky sat back up again. “Once upon a time in a distant land, there lived a beautiful princess with long golden locks who was considered by all the men in her father’s kingdom to be the most stunning woman alive. After being kidnapped by the King’s enemy, she declined his marriage proposal and out of spite, he cursed her to spend eternity locked away within the darkest dungeon of his grandest castle, to protect the jewels and gold.”

“Gee, I wonder what the princess was called?”

“Funnily enough, her name was Erica. Anyway, her father, the King, declared that the first man to kill his enemy and break the curse upon his only daughter, would win her hand in marriage along with all the riches in the dungeon.”

“That’s hardly much of a challenge.”

“Ah, but this was no ordinary curse, for it left the princess with an insatiable appetite for sex all the time. Over the next twenty years, hundreds of brave knights travelled from afar on their trusty steeds to rescue the princess, but not one man survived to tell the tale. It was a one-way ticket to Paradise, or that’s what the villagers lead everyone to believe.”

Erica gasped. “She fucked them to death?”

“They wish!” Franky scoffed. “As soon as she set eyes upon her would-be saviours, the princess would become so horny that she’d transform into a fire-breathing dragon and incinerate them to death due to fire proof armour having not yet being invented.”

Erica laughed out loud. “Yes, I can see why that would be a problem. But if no one survived, how do you know she turned into a dragon?”

“I’m getting to that. One warm winter’s day, a fine specimen of a human being rode into the village on a steel horse, and even though she was a pauper and couldn’t afford the armour and weaponry favoured by the knights, she wore a cool full length black leather jacket.”

“A steel horse?”

“In this modern era, we refer them to as motorcycles.”

“Hang on, what’s a motorcycle doing in a story set in medieval times?”

“Because it’s my fantasy and therefore doesn’t have to make any sense. I get the feeling you don’t want to hear how the story ends.”

“I do! Apologies, my wise bard, please continue.”

“Thank you. Anyway, the pauper’s name was Francesca, and she had heard of the princess’ plight during her travels. The village people belittled and mocked her, for she was just a pitiful woman; how could she succeed where hundreds of men before her had failed?” Nevertheless, she entered the chambers of the castle with the heckling of the villagers’ criticism still ringing in her ears. Francesca expected to fight the King’s enemy, but as with every other man who had challenged him before, he remained seated on his throne and waved her through, unopposed.”

“Why fight and risk death when the princess will finish them, anyway?”

“Exactly. Francesca made her way down deep within the bowels of the castle where she could just see the outline of the beautiful princess; her ankle shackled to the stone floor to prevent her from escaping. ‘Don’t come any further,’ the princess warned. ‘For you will die a gruesome death.’ Francesca took two steps forward and watched as the princess transformed into a menacing dragon rising high on its hind legs, readying itself for the kill. Ignoring the warning further, Francesca stepped into the small beam of sunlight generated by the one tiny window sealed with iron bars. ‘Prepare to die, mere mortal!’”

Erica picked up the dragon’s side of the story. “It was at this point the dragon realised its error. ‘Tis not a man I see before me, but a woman. What can you offer me that no man has ever given?’”

“To love you unconditionally and to treat you like no man could possibly know how.”

“But you lie! For you are poor and therefore your true intention is to inherit all the riches of the kingdom, should you break the curse. Greed is your only motivation!”

“It is true I am but a pauper, but I seek only love. I have no need for riches, but I can offer you a half share in my steel horse.”

“_Facta non Verba_, the dragon hissed in Latin.” Erica waited a few seconds for Franky to reply. “It means, ‘Deeds, not Words’.”

“Er, right... ‘Deeds not Words,’ Francesca translated into English; for surely it was the dragon’s way of challenging her. She held her hand up to one of the dragon’s scars and gently outlined the largest one with two fingers.”

Franky mimicked the action against the scar on Erica’s right upper thigh inflicted by Cartwright. “Who could possibly harm such a beautiful creature?”

“Even though the touch of Francesca did not hurt physically, the dragon still flinched, for the emotional scars remained from every man who had used their sword to pierce its toughened skin. ‘Doth not my looks repulsive you?’”

“No, because I see the beauty in here.” Franky moved her hand up to Erica’s heart. “That’s all that matters to me.”

She noticed a tear slide down Erica’s cheek, but continued in character. “Why are you crying, my beautiful princess?”

“You call me a beautiful princess, yet I am an ugly dragon. No one has ever treated me with kindness, only to defeat and thereby control me.”

“Tell me what it is you most desire.”

“I want someone to set us both free and to love us for who we are, because to love the princess, is to love the dragon, too.”

“Francesca stood on her tippy-toes and kissed the dragon softly on its lips, watching it transform back into the beautiful princess once more.”

Once again, Franky re-enacted the scene and kissed Erica softly of the lips.

“‘Come, let us seek our happily ever after,’ Francesca said, as she watched the princess produce the key to the shackles which she kept hidden down her slip. ‘You held the key to freedom all this time?’”

“‘Until now, no one has been worthy of me.’ The princess held out her hand and together they climbed the stone spiral staircase and back through the chamber where the King’s enemy was still seated upon his throne. ‘Wait one moment,’ the princess said to Francesca, and approached the elderly man who looked up at her with a gentle smile and said, ‘I see you have finally found your soul mate - that special person whom you were seeking long before I took you prisoner. Go with my blessing and may you be forever happy.’”

Franky burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Erica asked.

“Too soppy. I’ll bet once you hit puberty and your Barbie army no longer cut it, you invested a lot of time locked away in your bedroom, getting yourself off on those trashy Mills & Boon novels, right?”

Erica laughed, but didn’t deny the allegation. “And what ending did you envision?”

“Remember how the King’s enemy cursed the princess out of spite? In my version, the princess approaches him, but because he’s male, she transforms into a dragon and incinerates him to death as an act of revenge for incarcerating her for twenty years.”

“So seeing a man didn’t make her horny?”

“Nup. That was just a lie to entice the knights. Don’t ever believe a bunch of dumb-arsed villagers.”

“At least the curse would have been lifted due to the death of the King’s enemy.”

“Wrong again. The princess needed to learn a hard lesson that she wasted those twenty years waiting for the right man to come along, when she could have been spending all that time fucking a woman because the curse didn’t apply to them!” Franky laughed out loud.

“What the fuck? You know how to kill the mood!”

“Seriously though, there is a moral to the story. Listen to your heart and don’t waste time ignoring it. Oh and don’t forget to let me in on what it desires most or you’ll get zilch.”

“I know what I desire most right now.”

“Does it involve me removing the handcuffs and blindfold?”

“No, you may leave those on.”

“Then I have a surprise for you. Block your ears.” Franky leaned over and pulled something out of the brown paper bag she had placed on top of the bedside table earlier.

Erica rattled the cuffs as a reminder. “Sure, I’ll just use my big toes.”

“I would love to see you try that!” Franky laughed. “I’ve been saving this wand for a special occasion.”

“Let me guess - it has a ten speed vibrator with weird attachments? Boring!”

“It’s not just a vibrator.”

“What’s so special about it?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Franky switched the wand on its special setting and placed the tip directly on Erica’s clit, causing her body to convulse like she had been shocked.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“No shouting or you’ll wake up Gidge! The metal head radiates a magnetic pulse.”

“You mean you just zapped me?”

“Yep. How did it feel?”

“Put it this way, my clit is still tingling.”

“Want me to try again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Maybe is not an option. Yes or no?”

“Fuck it! Yes, do it.” Erica braced herself.

“You look like you’re preparing yourself for a fisting!” Franky laughed. “Try to relax.”

“But you’ve taken away my sight and touch.”

“That’s the whole point.” Franky smeared the wand’s head in her own juices and waved it under Erica’s nose. “What does this smell like to you?”

Erica flared her nostrils, deeply inhaling the familiar scent. “That I’m not the only one highly aroused.”

She then pushed the whole head into Erica’s mouth and watched as Erica swirled her tongue slowly around it, using the inside of her mouth to suck the wand in and out.

“I see you’ve had plenty of experience doing that,” Franky chuckled. “What do your tastebuds tell you?”

Erica released the wand. “Mmm, a sweet delicate flavour, with just a hint of metal.”

“From the tip, no doubt.” Franky flicked the vibrator on and slowly guided the wand downwards to each of Erica’s breasts, switching to the magnetic pulse to circle around each nipple.

“How does that make you feel?”

Erica threw her head back. “Like you’re sticking fucking pins through the tips of my erect nipples,” she said through clenched teeth.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Painful, but it also makes me feel excited... vulnerable... and aching for more.”

Franky flicked the wand off and applied some water-based lubricant to the head, then used her free hand to separate Erica’s folds, placing it lightly at the entrance, ready to be pushed in. “Do you want me to venture inside?”

“Yes, please!”

“Vibrator or pulse?”

Erica bit down on her own upper arm in anticipation and Franky could just hear a muffled “Pulse!”

The pricking sensation hit her once more. “Stop! No, don’t stop!” She shouted at the top of her voice as she continuously banged her balled fists hard against the bedhead. “Fuck!”

“Will you keep it down?” Franky laughed. “I’m barely touching the surface and not even inside you yet!” She quickly ducked sideways to avoid being kicked in the face by one of Erica’s stray legs. “That good, huh? Next time I’ll tie your legs down, too.”

“Fuck you and that steel horse you rode in on.”

Franky withdrew the wand completely. “Naughty girl! Do you realise you’ve dropped enough swear words tonight to fill ten swear jars? Mother Davidson would not approve of her daughter’s potty mouth.”

“Again! Zap me again!” Erica demanded.

“Depends if you can answer the following questions honestly. What were you doing at The Velvet Curtain?”

“What is this? An interrogation? I’m on the edge, here!”

“Tough titties. If this is what it takes to discover your kinks, then yes, this is an interrogation.”

“Getting a pedicure.”

“Smartarse. I know what type of club it is, having frequent the premises many times before I was arrested. No more zaps until you play nicely.” Franky leaned over and wrapped her left hand carefully around Erica’s throat. “I’ll ask you one more time, what were you doing at The Velvet Curtain?”

“It was before my time at Wentworth and I was there on legitimate business with the owner, representing my father’s law firm.”

“And the second time?”

“There was no second time.”

“You’re lying.” Franky applied the tiniest of pressure around Erica’s throat. “You mentioned in the car that you visited twice.”

Erica gasped at the excitement the extra pressure gave her and swallowed hard. “To sample the goods on offer.”

“When was this?”

“About a couple of months before you contacted me.”

“What did you like most about the place?”

“Everything, although I didn’t participate.”

“So you like to watch?”

“I wanted to participate but when I went back a week later, it had closed down.”

“Yeah, I remember that day. It was a big loss to Melbourne and I may have even cried a little.” Franky released her grip around Erica’s throat. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Tell me what you want and don’t dick me around.”

“I want to feel that magnetic pulse inside me and rip through my body until it hurts, and... I want you to choke me like you did before.”

Franky smirked. “I thought so. I’ll switch this baby back on, but I’ll need you to be quiet. Think you can do that?”

“Why? Bridget’s passed out from the wine and you said she’s a heavy sleeper.”

“Nothing to do with Gidge. It’s all about practising self control; to awaken the senses you have left and therefore enhance your own pleasure.”

“And if I can’t resist the urge to scream?”

“Then I’ll leave you cuffed here, horny as all fuck, and I’ll move to Gidge’s room for a good night’s sleep, given she’s not using her bed tonight.”

Erica lifted and parted her legs as wide as they could go. “As you wish, my Dragon Slayer. Am I going to need a safe word?”

“Hmmm, how about... velvet? It’s smooth and soft to touch, but can be rough when stroked the wrong way. Like you, really.”

“Velvet?” Erica licked her lips in anticipation. “I love it.”

“Oh, and one more request... try to resist the urge to kick me in the head and knock me out, or you’re gonna have a bitch of a time explaining our predicament to Gidget in the morning.”


	7. Stakeout

Bridget shuffled into the kitchen like a zombie; her bloodshot eyes squinting in response to the natural daylight. “I have one word to say... caffeine.”

“The Thing has finally risen,” Franky joked, handing her a strong, black coffee. “And that was seven words.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after midday. How did you sleep last night?”

“Like I’d been knocked out by a bottle of wine, except at one stage a strange, clanging-type sound woke me. It sounded like metal banging against metal.”

“Er, yeah... hear that, Erica? I told you the drainpipe in the ensuite needs replacing.”

“Mmm, I’ll organise for a plumber.”

“Is that the clue from Fairy Park?” Bridget asked as she savoured her first caffeine hit for the day.

Franky screwed the bulb into the lamp and switched it on. “Yeah, I reckon old Kramps uses light bulbs because they represent his so-called bright ideas.” She held a piece of white paper above the light bulb. “‘The Green Palm.’ That’s where we found the first light bulb and clue. We must have missed something the first time around and he wants us to return there?”

“If he is purposely using lightbulbs, then maybe this is the third part of the one clue?” Bridget suggested.

“You mean one or two globes on their own will make no sense, but add a third and it will lead you to the treasure?”

“Exactly. What was the first clue?”

“Death awaits those.”

“And the second?”

“Who come ill-prepared.” Franky wrote all three clues on a piece of paper. “Put them all together and they read, ‘Death awaits those who come ill-prepared to the green palm’. Not bad, Gidge, considering you’re nursing a serious hangover.”

“Let’s hope there are no further light bulbs to track down,” Erica said as she went to answer the front door.

McMahon radiated a vibe of annoyance as he entered the apartment and didn’t bother with any formal greetings. “How come you girls didn’t call me last night?”

“We, er... were busy and forgot.” Franky handed McMahon the piece of paper. “Anyway, it was another light bulb with the words, ‘The Green Palm’, and we believe you need to combine all three clues to complete the message.”

“Right. Obviously too much sex makes you forget to inform me of any important developments.”

“What does no sex give you, McMahon?” Franky asked.

“Many long and lonely nights with plenty of time to suss out CCTV footage, frame-by-frame. Pop this USB stick into your tv.”

“Is that the footage from outside Luna Park?” Erica asked.

“Yes, and I think you’ll be interested in the results.”

Franky squinted at the screen. “Even though it’s a little blurry, you can see he’s wearing work overalls and a hard hat to look like a council worker. It also looks like he’s intentionally covering his face like he knows there are CCTV cameras in the area.”

“You’re focusing on the obvious, Franky.” McMahon paused the picture. “Note the silver car Krampus is getting into. I’ve checked the number plate with the Road Traffic Authority and the car is registered to Clive Dorset.”

“The guy Krampus murdered and stole his ID card, so he could use it to kill Daniel?” Bridget asked.

“Yes.” McMahon could see the look of pain upon Bridget’s face and placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder. “Are you okay for me to continue?” Bridget nodded. “As long as Krampus doesn’t break any road laws to warrant him being pulled over by the police, it’s a lower risk to use Dorset’s car rather than using his own vehicle or a stolen one.”

“So we’ve narrowed down the vehicle, but what about the elusive Krampus?” Erica asked.

“Hopefully we can catch him by number plate recognition. The plate has appeared on several CCTV cameras across the VicRoads network and even though the car isn’t stolen, it’s no longer registered because the RTA lists the owner as deceased. That will always earn a red flag. From the footage gathered, the car is a regular in Champion Road, Newport.”

Franky retrieved the USB stick and handed it back to McMahon. “So what now? We still can’t involve the police.”

“I’m going to do a little snooping around the area.”

“Feel like some company?” Bridget asked. “You’ll need someone to drive you.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a wise idea. I was going to get one of my cop mates to drive me,” McMahon said, hoping she would take the hint.

“Right now I feel like a fifth wheel and need to do something constructive with my time.”

It was a stupid idea and McMahon wanted to flat out refuse her, to tell her it’s too risky for a civilian. But a small part of him understood her unspoken reasons for asking him.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know, Gidge. Maybe I should go instead.”

“Negative. You need to stay with Erica in case Krampus calls, and besides, if he sees you and I together, there will be hell to pay. Okay, Bridget, you’re in, but we’ll need to organise a hire car in case Krampus knows the car you drive.”

Five minutes after McMahon and Bridget left, Krampus’ phone rang.

_“Hello, Franky, it’s a lovely day for Fortune Teller. Are you ready to play?”_

“Do I have a choice?”

_“Absolutely! Your choices are blue, green, red or yellow?”_

“If arsehole were a colour, I’d choose that. Instead, I’ll go with blue.”

_“B - L - U - E. Guess what’s next?”_

“Four.”

_“One - Two - Three - Four. What’s your fortune for today? Remember, no cheating.”_

Franky held up her middle finger. “One.”

Krampus laughed at Franky’s audacity. _“You’re determined to remain defiant right until the end, aren’t you?”_

“So what’s my fortune?”

_“‘I’m bringing back the death penalty’. What do you suppose that means?”_

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

_“It means this is your lucky day because I’m about to do you another huge favour. You can thank me later.”_

**** **** ****

McMahon took a sip from his plastic coffee cup. Sitting in the car for nearly nine hours with no stretching except during toilet breaks, was wreaking havoc on his hip, and he hoped he and Bridget wouldn’t have to wait much longer. Each time Bridget attempted to make conversation with him, McMahon either changed the topic or pretended to study his notes on the case. Bridget eventually relented and immersed herself in a book.

“Must be a good book. You’ve given up trying to engage me in conversation.”

“I’m using the time to do a little research on serial killers. Anyway, who says I’ve given up? We have all night.”

McMahon sighed. “You don’t have to stay. It’s late and I don’t even know which factory Krampus is using, or if he will return tonight. He may have even moved on by now.”

“Nice try, but l’m staying.”

“Stakeouts can last days or even weeks and may not result to anything. Let me organise a taxi to take you home.”

“And do what? You and I are sitting in this car for the same reason.”

“Plugged into my brain, are you?”

“Nope. You’re blaming yourself over Danny’s death when it wasn’t your fault.”

“I was running security that night. Everyone in that building was my responsibility.”

“There were many people in such a confined space and the security cameras weren’t working. How could you possibly foresee what was going to happen?”

“My instincts told me it didn’t feel right. I should have demanded they postpone the Christmas party until they fixed the system. Plus, I sealed Dan’s fate by bringing him into the game, even though Krampus would have thought it was Franky and Erica’s doing.”

“You don’t know that for sure. Besides, Danny died because he was doing his job.”

“Are you trying that fancy psych bullshit on me? Cause l’m not buying it.”

“Actually, l’m trying to ease my own conscience, too.”

“Yeah, hypothetical situations can really screw with your mind. No one benefits from them.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I seem to make a good living from it.”

McMahon cracked up laughing and Bridget joined in, realising it was the first time she had ever heard the man laugh. The laughter died down and McMahon began tapping the side of his coffee cup, unsure if he felt comfortable pushing the conversation further, or to let Bridget continue reading.

“You know, he really loved you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Bridget took a sip of coffee, and grimaced. “Shit, this stuff’s vile!”

“I’ll have one of those fancy coffee machines installed in the boot of my car for our next stakeout. Did you know you were the one and only person who ever left Dan? You set the bar so high, that no other woman could possibly compete.”

“Yeah, I had my suspicions. He never let no woman get close, and would back away whenever they sought a commitment. Frankly, I’m surprised he revealed something so personal like that to you.”

“Dan was a chilled guy once you got to know him. We went out to the local bar near work a few times scouting for eligible ladies. Actually, he did the scouting, I just kept Mr Smooth company until he found someone to keep him warm that night.”

“Sounds like Danny.”

“It's true, then? You had a relationship with him? I mean... I thought you prefer the ladies?”

Bridget laughed. “Yeah, we’ve known each other since high school and dated in our first year at university. I loved him, but I got to a point where I couldn’t ignore my sexual preferences any longer. He was crushed, but respected my decision, and with the pressure off, we became the best of friends. It was nice having someone of the opposite sex which I could confide in and get a male’s perspective, without the hassle of being lovers.” Bridget sighed.

“So what happened?”

“About ten years’ ago, we were acquainting ourselves with a bottle of wine, and he told me that he never stopped loving me, but would never cross that line into a sexual relationship again because he was fearful he would destroy our friendship.”

“Did he remember the conversation the following day?”

“If he did, he never let on. I couldn't comprehend why he felt that way after all that time, nor why he still hung around when nothing was going to eventuate, until I had to walk away from my relationship with Franky. Only then, did I truly understand his sacrifice.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Bridget. He was a good mate.” He held up his cup, and Bridget tapped it with her own. “To Dan,” he toasted.

“To Danny. You know, Franky thinks you’re a big sook under that tough exterior.”

“Franky’s full of shit. Do me a favour and don’t tell her she’s right, or l’ll never hear the end of it. Honestly, I don’t know how Erica puts up with her.”

“You like Erica, don’t you?”

McMahon shrugged and gave an awkward laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Romeo.”

“If things were different, then yeah, I may have asked her out especially now l’m out of the police force. Franky loves to stir me about it, but she knows I would never come between two people destined to be together.” McMahon realised his slip up as soon as he said it. “l’m sorry, Bridget. That was insensitive of me.”

“It’s okay. I’ve accepted my relationship with Franky is now platonic.”

"I don't buy that bullshit."

"Believe what you want."

“Why is it we always want the things we can never have?”

“Are you asking me as a psychologist, or as a friend?”

“As a friend. Psychologists are full of shit. No offence.”

“None taken, but I have to warn you l’m a far better psychologist, than I am a friend.”

“I’ll risk it. So why do we let ourselves fall for the wrong people when we know it will lead to nothing?”

“You can’t help who you fall in love with, and you just have to hope they feel they same way about you.”

“That’s too philosophical for me, although Franky has exquisite taste in women.” He winked at her. “Think I may have to ask her for tips on how to find Mrs Right.”

Bridget laughed. “So McMahon, do you have a Christian name? You know, something your parents called you when you were born?”

“Lachlan, although no one calls me that, except my younger sister, Sarah. And Erica, whenever she remembers.”

“And you let her?”

“Sarah’s stubborn and never listens to me, anyway.” He looked at Bridget inquisitively. “You remind me of her.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You’ve never felt the urge to settle down?”

“Nope, I didn’t want to subject any woman to being a cop’s wife. I’ve worked some of Victoria’s nastiest cases dealing with absolute scum, Bridget. Sometimes l’d go to work and pray to the Man Upstairs that l’d make it home alive again, and no family deserves to live with such uncertainty. Besides, Sarah’s seven-year-old son keeps me on my toes and is a constant reminder that not doing the family thing, was the correct decision made.”

“That’s a lonely life to lead.”

“You get used to it. I had two rules when I was in the Force: to work alone, and to live my life alone. That way I only have myself to blame should things not work out.”

“You partnered with Cartwright.”

“Lumbered with Cartwright,” he corrected her. “Look how that turned out.”

“Is that why you took on all the dangerous cases? To protect your colleagues who have families?”

“Is that what I said?”

“Not those exact words.”

“Now you sound exactly like my sister.” He took another sip from his coffee.

“It goes with the territory, if you want to be my friend. So what happened?”

“Several years’ ago, a nineteen-year-old kid was brandishing a gun threatening to shoot his pregnant girlfriend. My partner and I were the first on the scene and the kid fired off a few random shots, killing my partner. Anyway, long story short, I took him out with one shot.”

“You saved the girl and her unborn child.”

“Yet I couldn’t save my partner who left behind a wife and three young children, so I guess that balances it out, right?”

“And you’re not sure if you shot him to protect his girlfriend, or to avenge your partner’s death?”

McMahon nodded. “Afterwards, I set myself up to be difficult to work with, taking on the cases no one else wanted, in some vain hope that I could atone for what I did.”

“You mean for what he did. Just remember, you’re no longer a detective, so don’t hide behind that excuse forever. Don’t get old and have to live with regrets preventable in the present.”

“I must be slipping, to allow you to get inside my head. How much do I owe for this session, Doc?”

Bridget held her cup out for a refill. “I’m not a doctor, but a decent coffee would suffice. None of this instant powdered shit out of a flask.”

McMahon was about to oblige, when he spotted a silver vehicle matching Clive Dorset’s car drive past them to a mechanic's workshop half a block away, watching with interest as the roller door automatically opened and the car went inside.

“What do you think?” Bridget asked.

“The number plates are a perfect match. Stay here, I want to get a closer look.”

“No way, l’m coming with you.” Bridget exited the car before he could object.

McMahon struggled to keep up on his crutches. “At least get behind me.” They crossed the street, using a factory on the corner to hide them both from view. “This time, stay put!”

McMahon approached the red brick premises and leaned over the bins awkwardly to peer through the small window, but with the added weight on his leg, it cramped up and gave way from being inactive so long, sending him crashing into the bins. Bridget ran over and helped him up, half dragging him around the corner moments before Krampus came out to investigate the loud noise.

“Are you okay, McMahon? Do you need assistance back to the car?”

“No, we can’t go back yet, or he’ll see us. There’s a bar a few doors down, we can blend in with the crowd and wait a half hour until it’s safe to return to the car.”

**** **** ****

Franky picked up the phone. “Getting fucking tired of these late night calls, Krampus.”

_“Quick, pick a number!”_ Krampus was puffing, like he had been running.

“No, I’m not playing, anymore.”

Krampus pondered his next move. _“Okay, we’ll play it my way. Red. R - E - D. Number?”_

Franky continued to defy him.

_“Three looks good. One - Two - Three. Last chance to pick your fortune.”_

Franky finally relented. “Five.”

_“Your fortune is, ‘Double Trouble’. Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good.”_

“What do I need to do?”

_“Nothing, it’s my turn, again. Sit tight and I’ll call back as soon as I complete the fortune.”_

**** **** ****

Bridget drove a few blocks before McMahon demanded they pull over alongside a roadside ditch.

“Why are we stopping here?” Bridget asked.

“It bugs me that we got away so easily and I need some time to think out loud.”

“Krampus didn’t see us, I’m positive of that.”

“No, there’s more to it than that. Why would Krampus go to so much trouble to cover his face from the CCTV footage at Luna Park, yet use a car which can be traced?”

“Maybe he didn’t think you could match it back to Clive Dorset?”

“No, he’s smart enough to know I would eventually make the connection.”

“What was inside the workshop? Did you see him?”

“Just the back of him and it looked like he was wearing a balaclava. The premises was completely bare - except for Dorset’s car. It’s like Krampus has purposely set this whole gig up exclusively for me.”

“But how would he know which night to expect your arrival?”

“It wouldn’t matter, as long as he returned each night, even just for a few minutes.” McMahon looked at Bridget with alarm. “You're not even supposed to be here.”

It was then McMahon noticed a piece of cardboard attached to the outside of the windscreen held in place by its wiper. “What the hell is that?” He rolled down the window to retrieve the item.

_Only it wasn’t just a piece of cardboard._

“It looks like a Christmas card,” Bridget said, as her mobile started ringing with Franky’s name appearing on screen.

McMahon didn’t bother to open the card. “Get out of fucking car, NOW!”

Moments later, the car exploded.


	8. Repressed Memories

_“Hello, Franky, apologies for hanging up on you earlier, but time was against me and I had important business which couldn't be ignored.”_

“What have you done? Tell me what double trouble means!”

_“It means I’ve ticked two more names off 'The Hit List' tonight.”_

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

_“You’re lying, but I’ll speak slow and try not to use any big words, so you’ll understand. I had a couple of people visit me tonight - Bridget Westfall and Lachlan McMahon. Do you know them? Anyway, I did the right thing and gave them my Christmas card earlier than anticipated. Normally, I like to deliver in person, but they foolishly came to me.”_

“You better not have hurt them, or l’ll-“

_“Oh, I didn’t hurt them - I killed them. Car explosion. _Ka-boom!_ They would have resembled two over-cooked Christmas turkeys that not even Daniel Bailey could identify the bodies - had he still been alive to perform the autopsies. I knew you couldn’t resist bringing McMahon into the game and set a trap by picking a spot where there were CCTV cameras. It was only a matter of time before he’d come snooping around, although having Westfall there saved me the hassle of killing her later. Is that simple enough for you to understand, Franky?”_

“I don’t believe you!”

_“I’m sure it will be all over the news by morning and you’ll believe me then. You can tell their families I saved them a small fortune in cremation costs. I hope you and Erica have all your own affairs in order, because your time has nearly expired, and so has Tess’ short life. Sweet dreams, Franky.”_

“No, no, NO!” Franky hurled the mobile into the wall, smashing it to pieces, and collapsed on the ground in a heap, crying hysterically. She remained that way until Erica arrived home half an hour later.

Erica rushed over and dropped to her knees. “Franky, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Franky rocked on her side, staring out into nothing. “Bridget and McMahon are dead. Krampus called me and said they died in a car explosion.”

“He’s taunting you, because he knows how easy it is to aggravate you.”

“No, he wasn’t. I could tell by the sound of his voice that he wasn’t lying. He was really getting off on it.”

“Have you tried calling them?”

“What for? They’re dead! Krampus set us up with the CCTV footage!”

Erica dialled Bridget’s number first, then McMahon’s. Both went straight to message bank.

“Krampus has already won the game and we’re next to die, aren’t we?”

Franky’s question remained unanswered as Erica lay alongside her, cradling her close. Bridget and McMahon were dead, and the realisation hit them both that they were now on borrowed time.

**** **** ****

The hire car was completely engulfed in flames and the intensity of the heat caused McMahon to shield his eyes, but he used the brightness of the flames to locate Bridget.

“Bridget!” McMahon shouted. “Sound off, so I know you’re still alive!”

McMahon spotted a long stick which could support his weight and hopped around frantically within the immediate vicinity, calling her name until he heard some distant coughing. “Bridget? Where the hell are you?”

“I’m still here!” Came a faint reply.

“Keep shouting, so I can find you!”

“I’m down here, waiting impatiently to be rescued.”

McMahon lay on his stomach and peered over the steep embankment to find Bridget lying at the bottom of the ditch, partially covered in dirt.

“You’re a full-time job to look after, you know that?”

“Hoo-fucking-ray! My friend turned guardian angel has finally arrived,” she said in between spitting out particles of dirt. “I warned you I make a far better psychologist.”

“Are you intact? Nothing broken?”

Bridget sat upright, checking for any serious injuries. “All bones present and accounted for and although I have a few scratches, it beats the alternative. I don’t mind admitting, I thought I’d be playing the harp by now.”

“I once told Franky she wasn’t allowed to die on my shift, and the same rule applies to you.”

“Yeah, well thanks to you, I jumped clear from the car and tumbled down into this roadside ditch. How the hell did you survive?”

“I took cover behind a nearby tree with a thick trunk.” McMahon pulled his mobile out but noticed it was damaged. “Don’t suppose you have a working mobile?”

“Nope, I dropped it in the car.”

“Krampus must have planted the device in the car when we hid in the bar, which confirms he knew all along we were there. We need to get back to Franky and Erica’s place ASAP to minimize the fallout.”

Bridget made her way up the embankment, slipping upon the loosened dirt. “Do you think he’ll try to harm them?”

McMahon held out his hand to help her up over the ledge. “Not yet, but he will taunt them with our deaths.”

“Shit, Franky will totally lose it! God knows what she’ll do!”

“Exactly. Let’s get back to the main road and see if we can hitch a ride to their place.”

“Shouldn’t we find a phone booth and call the police? We would get there faster, especially now you’ve lost your crutches.”

“I hate to say it, but Erica and Franky will already believe we’re dead - Krampus would see to that. But maybe we can make this work to our advantage, and I don’t want to advertise we’re alive and heading back to their place.”

**** **** ****

It was just before 2am, and Franky sat on the lounge suite in total darkness with Erica resting her head in her lap. She never believed it was possible to run out of tears, but during the night Franky had proven herself wrong. With one hand lightly caressing Erica’s hair, and the other resting on the handle of the Glock lying beside her, she felt the darkness seep into her soul once more, leaving her feeling nothing but the purest of hate. Krampus had taken Bridget and McMahon away from her, Alan was fighting for his life, and Tess’ fate was still undecided. She knew that nothing anyone could possibly say would ever change her desire to kill Krampus.

Franky gazed down at Erica and realised that she was all Franky had left now, which made her more determined to protect her at any cost. The rhythm of Erica’s light snoring relaxed Franky enough to send her to sleep until the alert button on the coffee table buzzed, warning her that someone was approaching either via the lift or stairwell.

“Erica, wake up,” Franky whispered in her ear. “I think we’re in trouble.”

Erica jumped up immediately, positioning herself to the side of the front door as previously planned. Franky faced the door, focusing upon the narrow beam of light which streamed underneath, and then she saw it - the distinct shadow of a person who was now standing on the other side of the door. She flicked the safety off and aimed the Glock with both hands, hoping that Krampus wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot at her due to the apartment being cloaked in darkness.

_Remember: aim to maim, not to kill. For now._

Erica unlatched the deadlock and swung the door away from herself so she wouldn’t be in the line of fire.

“Move, and I’ll blow your fucking head off!”

“It’s me and Bridget! Put the gun down, Franky!”

Erica switched on the light and Franky burst into tears at seeing Bridget alive. McMahon snatched the gun away from Franky, and flicked the safety back on, as Erica threw her arms around his broad shoulders. He held her in his arms, feeling slightly awkward.

Franky held Bridget’s face with both hands. “Are you okay? Krampus told me you were both dead! How the fuck are you still alive?”

“McMahon’s instincts saved us both,” Bridget said, in between sobs.

McMahon released Erica. “We would have arrived here sooner, but I needed to make sure we weren’t being followed, or that your place was being watched. I assume Krampus called you?”

“Yes, he called to play Fortune Teller,” Franky said. “At first I refused to play along, but Krampus starting picking on my behalf. I chose the fortune which was ‘double trouble’ and immediately suspected he knew about you and Bridget. I called to warn you both, but it went to message bank.”

“We heard the call, but had to bail before the car exploded,” McMahon said. “It confirms what I’ve suspected all along - that Krampus is rigging the game in his favour and you couldn’t possibly win that round, because he planted the explosive device in the hire car before he called you.”

Erica’s mobile vibrated in her pocket, startling her. “It’s a private number.”

“I bet that’s Krampus,” McMahon said.

“Tell him Bridget and McMahon are still alive and he can go fuck himself!” Franky snapped. “Actually, give me the phone and l’ll tell him!”

“Wait! Krampus thinks Bridget and I are dead, so let him believe that. Erica, he’s called you for a reason, so I want you to take the call and find out what he wants you both to do next.”

“It’s not a video call.” Erica hesitantly accepted the call, immediately putting it on speaker.

_“Take your phone off speaker, Erica. This is between me and you because Franky is too irrational to deal with, anymore.”_

Erica placed the phone up to her ear. “You killed Bridget and McMahon. How else did you expect her to react?”

_“You were both warned about the consequences of bringing other people into the game. The only apology I owe, is for neglecting you both, but I can assure you won’t be waiting much longer. I just need to deal with one last person who escaped Death’s clutches the first time around.”_

“And then what?”

_“Do you remember that old Christmas tune, ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’? I’ll start, but feel free to join in, anytime.”_

_He’s made a list,_

_He’s checked it twice,_

_He’s nearly eliminated the naughty and nice. _

_Then Krampus will be hunting you down._

Erica swallowed nervously. “You won’t kill us. Not yet, anyway.”

_“Are you positive about that?”_

“Yes, because the game isn’t over yet, and if you kill us beforehand, then we won’t be there at the finish line to witness your victory. That’s what’s important to you, isn’t it? To humiliate us in defeat before Death comes to collect us?”

_“I am Death.”_

“Yes, you've mentioned that previously. But what if we defeat Death before the end of the game?”

_“Unlike you, Bella, failure for me isn’t an option this time around, because I have to finish what I’ve started.”_

The phone went dead and Erica swayed on the spot, appearing vague, like she was going to faint.

“Erica? Are you okay?” Bridget asked. “Do you need to sit down?” She snapped her fingers to catch her attention. “Erica!”

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Please, excuse me.” She walked off briskly towards the bathroom.

“What the hell was that all about?” Franky asked.

“Just curious, but what do you know about Erica’s kidnapping at the hands of Leonie Cartwright?” Bridget asked Franky.

“Erica suffered a concussion from a blow to the head, which caused gaps in her memory. The doctor said she would most likely regain those memories.”

“But did she reveal anything specific about her ordeal?”

“No, she refuses to discuss any of it, but I figured she’ll tell me when she’s ready. Why?”

“I’m not sure, but I think Erica erased the details from that day, which could impact her in the present.”

“What are you looking to achieve? She had a gun held to her head, and that’s got to affect anyone on some sort of psychological level. Besides, what’s that got to do with Krampus?

“Do you think Krampus has met her previously and said something over the phone which could have triggered a forgotten memory?” McMahon asked Bridget.

“It’s a possibility, but I’ll need to investigate it further.”

“Gidge, l’m not sure I like where you’re heading with this as I know firsthand what it’s like to recall painful memories. There’s a reason I blocked mine out - it was because I wasn’t ready to deal with them.”

“Yet you faced your demons.”

“Only because you busted my chops until I blurted it out! It almost destroyed me in the process. I won’t let you hurt her.”

“But she could be the key to all of this, and if my suspicions are proven correct, then we may end this with no one else dying.”

“I’m with Bridget on this one, Franky. We need to know what happened that day.”

“And what if your hunch is wrong? We won’t be any closer, and you will have torn Erica’s soul apart.”

“I don’t think that’s Bridget’s intention, but l’d like to hear Erica’s side of the story, especially given she refused to come into the police station to give a detailed statement of her kidnapping.”

“That’s because there was no point. Cartwright had her head blown off, and last time I checked, you can’t arrest a dead person!”

Erica re-entered the lounge with bloodshot eyes, like she had been crying.

“Shit, Erica, are you okay?” Franky rushed over to her and tried to place her arms around her.

Erica pulled away and averted her eyes downwards. “Yep, just a bit of hay fever. I’ve put some eye drops in, so it should clear up soon.”

Franky knew Erica didn’t suffer from hay fever, but didn’t press the point. She didn’t approve of Bridget’s idea, but her concern at Erica’s distress outweighed her disapproval of Bridget’s suggestion.

“Okay, Gidge, it’s your call.”

“Erica, come and sit down.” Bridget guided her towards the lounge suite.

“I’m sorry about that little episode before. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Could it be Krampus said something over the phone which triggered a buried memory? Maybe it has to do with your kidnapping?”

“Cartwright? What’s she got to do with any of this?”

“I believe something happened at Pentridge and it may have deeply affected you to a point where your mind has been shielding you from recalling these painful memories.”

“Maybe you’re right. I had a... some sort of flashback... to the prison.”

“What happened at Pentridge, Erica?” McMahon questioned with concern.

“I’m not sure. The images are so fragmented that they make little sense. All I know is that they scare me.”

“How would you feel if I helped you to recall that day?”

“You mean hypnosis? What if I’m not ready, Bridget?”

“I think you are, given you’re having flashbacks. I can’t force you to put yourself through it all again, but maybe by confronting that day is the first step towards helping yourself heal.”

“Hang on, I thought hypnosis wasn’t your area of expertise, Gidge?”

“It isn’t, but after Matthew Fletcher approached me at Wentworth to help him recall his memories, I looked into it.”

Erica looked to Franky for reassurance. “Gidge knows how I feel about all of this, but I’m sorry, I can’t decide for you.”

“You’ll stay with me though?”

Franky reached out for Erica’s hand. “Absolutely.”

“Okay, Bridget. What do I have to do?”

“Franky and McMahon, if you’re insistent upon staying, then it’s imperative you don’t interfere or say anything, otherwise, I will ask you to leave the room. Okay, Erica, please lie upon the lounge suite and make yourself comfortable.”

Erica nodded nervously and laid back on the lounge, focusing all her concentration on the pen which Bridget now held before her. Before long, she fell into a deep trance.

Bridget began: “I want you to think back to that day when Cartwright first knocked on your door with the news that McMahon was on his way to kill Franky and arrest you...”

“Franky and I had just finished cleaning up and putting the furniture back to its original place when there was a loud, frantic thumping on the door. I looked over at Franky and mouthed to her to hide...”

_“It’s Cartwright. Open up!”_

_Erica rushed over to unlock the door. “What’s going on?”_

_“It’s McMahon. He’s on his way over and he knows you’re here, Franky. He’s working under the guise of a warrant to search these premises and he also has an arrest warrant issued for Erica to make it all appear legit in case other cops turn up at the same time.”_

_“What do you mean by working under the guise?” Erica questioned with concern._

_“I now have irrefutable proof that McMahon was involved in the robbery of the printing plates and he knows Franky has them! He’s using the warrant as a cover, but his real intention is to kill Franky!”_

_“But how does he know we have the plates?” Franky asked. “We haven’t told anyone.”_

_“Yeah, well, somehow he’s found out.”_

_“We need to leave!” Franky said, as she grabbed one of Erica’s coats. Erica watched as Franky pocketed a small paring knife lying on the kitchen bench._

_“Franky, you need to clear out. The search warrant will mean nothing if you’re not here, and McMahon won’t be able to arrest Erica without any proof,” Cartwright said._

_“But Erica will be safer with me.”_

_“If she leaves with you, McMahon will have all the proof he needs that Erica has been a part of this all along, and the warrant for her arrest will be valid.”_

_“Cartwright’s right, Franky. I know my rights and will be able to challenge McMahon within the boundaries of the law. If I keep this legal, then he has nothing on me.”_

_“Do you have a car?” Cartwright asked._

_“She can take mine.” Erica handed her keys to Franky._

_“Erica, I can’t just leave you!”_

_“She’ll be okay, Franky, but you need to leave, pronto! If McMahon finds you here, you both could end up dead.”_

_“What about you?”_

_“My team are on their way. In the meantime, I’ll stay here and tell him I arrived moments before he did. He won’t try anything with me around and will just carry out the warrant and search the premises.”_

_“Cartwright, I don’t know how I can ever repay you...”_

_“Not getting yourself killed, would be a good start.”_

_Franky nodded, then turned and kissed Erica. “Be careful of McMahon. I love you.”_

_“I love you, too. Don’t worry about me,” Erica said. “I’ll contact you when it’s safe to do so.”_

_“I’ll take care of Erica for you, Franky. Now get the hell out of here!”_

_Erica closed the door. “Let’s hope Franky will be safe. Okay, Cartwright, now that Franky’s out of the equation, what are my chances of making it out of this without McMahon arresting me?”_

_Cartwright opened the door, taking a quick look on the landing to ensure Franky had left. “It’s not McMahon you need to worry about, Erica.” She locked the door and unlatched her side holster._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I’d say he’ll soon be preoccupied with Franky.” She pulled the service revolver from the safety of its holster and pointed it at Erica. “You and I have a date with some printing plates.”_

_“Are you telling me that McMahon is downstairs in the carpark, waiting to kill Franky?” _

_“Yes, assuming that arrogant moron does the job right.”_

_Erica ignored the gun and made for the door, concern etched upon her face._

_Cartwright flicked off the safety and aimed it to Erica’s head. “Don’t give me a reason to shoot you, or you’ll be joining Franky at the morgue.”_

_“This was never about McMahon, was it? You’re the one who was working for Pickering and Johnstone.”_

_Cartwright laughed. “Guilty as charged! It’s a pity things turned out the way they did; I like you and Franky, but my priorities are the millions of dollars to be made, and that’s more important to me than any budding friendship. Thanks to Franky’s loose lips, I now know for certain that you both know the location of the plates. Let’s go.”_

_“And if I refuse?”_

_“I’ll shoot you.”_

_“No, you won’t. You’ve just sent Franky away, and you need me to retrieve the plates.”_

_“The human body can take several shots which won’t result in instant death. That said, you will eventually die without proper medical assistance and I’m sure the pain will be so unbearable that you’ll only be too happy to reveal the whereabouts of the plates to save your own skin.”_

_Cartwright looked down briefly to retrieve her handcuffs from her hip pocket, and Erica lunged at her, wrestling Cartwright’s gun hand with both her own hands. They fought for control of the gun, until Cartwright pushed Erica onto the coffee table, smashing the glass top to pieces. They rolled off the table and onto the floor together and a large shard of glass penetrated Erica’s right thigh; the sudden pain causing her to weaken her hold on Cartwright’s wrist, so that Cartwright could once again regain control of the gun._

_Erica screamed and writhed about in agony as Cartwright lifted herself up and stood over her. She leaned over and ripped the shard out of Erica’s thigh, causing her to scream once more. Erica winced as she attempted to apply pressure to the wound, and awkwardly turned onto her stomach, hoping to disguise the mobile which she had retrieved from the pocket of her skirt._

_“Oh no, you don’t!” Cartwright stepped on Erica’s hand to release the mobile and then cracked the screen with the heel of her boot. “Tell me where the plates are!” She held Erica by the back of her collar to help lift her to her feet and flung her into a nearby wall. “Tell me where those fucking plates are!”_

_“Fuck you!” Erica said, as she tried to stem the flow of blood from her thigh which was dribbling down her leg and leaving splotches on the cream-coloured carpet._

_“Maybe later!” Cartwright’s said, as she slapped her handcuffs on Erica’s wrists, and stuffing a dishcloth into her mouth._

_Cartwright led Erica down via the lift to an unmarked police car parked in a nearby laneway, shoving her into the space between and front and back seats. _

_“The child locks are on, so there’s no point in trying to escape.”_

_Erica felt dizzy from the blood loss and fought hard to remain conscious. With the gag in her mouth, she was short of breath and wanted to throw up. Twenty minutes into the trip, Franky’s old mobile rang._

_Cartwright switched to speaker phone. “Had a feeling you’d be calling, Doyle. Missing anything?”_

_“I could ask you the same question, Cartwright.”_

_“Ha ha! Very good, Doyle. Let’s play a trading game, shall we? The printing plates for your girlfriend.”_

_“We don’t negotiate.”_

_Cartwright swore quietly to herself before replying. “Is that McMahon? Tell him if he wants in, then he needs to be a good boy and play by my rules.”_

_“Cut the bullshit, Cartwright. What’s the deal?”_

_“D Division at Pentridge Prison, in Coburg. Franky should feel right at home there. Be there with the plates in one hour, no cops, just you Franky, and McMahon’s welcome too if he has a desire to die today. But if I so much as sniff another cop, Erica is dead.”_

_“This whole scenario feels like a fucking B-Grade clichéd movie! I don’t play by your rules, Cartwright. If you kill her, you’ll never see your plates, and I’ll shoot you myself.” _

_“Make it ninety minutes. I need to pick up the plates first.”_

_The speakerphone went dead and Cartwright stared at it in disbelief. “Bitch! Who the fuck gave her the right to dictate the terms?” Cartwright slammed her fist down continuously upon the steering wheel. “Damn you, McMahon and fuck you, Grigoris, you snitch!” She took several deep breaths to help calm herself before taking a quick glance over her shoulder. “Hey, Erica? You still with me? Looks like Franky lived, but that’s okay. I’ll just have to use you in exchange for the plates, so don’t go doing anything stupid like dying, until I say so, okay?”_

_Relieved to hear that Franky was safe and now siding with McMahon, Erica succumbed to the darkness, awakening a short time later to the stench of mouse droppings and mildew penetrating her nostrils. Sitting on the dust-coated floorboards, she was forced to lean her left shoulder against the wall due to her hands being cuffed to a thick metal pipe vertically attached to the wall. With her back facing the front door, Erica attempted to scan her surroundings of an old disused room shaped like a hexagon with windows all the way around. The only furniture appeared to be a metal desk bolted against the wall, along with two chairs, all of which were out of her reach, and an old medicine cabinet with a red cross and marked ‘Guard Tower’._

_With the gag removed, Erica’s mouth felt parched. Her right leg throbbed, and she noticed strips of cloth tied hastily above and below the wound to act as a tourniquet. She pulled at the rusting pipe, hoping it would break away from the wall, but to no avail. _

_“You’re awake. Good, the show is about to start.” _

_The heavily accented voice frightened Erica, and she struggled to peer over her shoulder to notice a man now leaning against the door frame. He leant his rifle against the wall and walked over to Erica, kneeling beside her and lifting her chin to inspect her face. With the moonlight streaming through the window, she could see his slicked back short blonde hair and brown eyes. He then pulled her hair back hard and kissed her aggressively, his whiskers rough against her smooth skin. She pulled away, repulsed by the pungent smell of stale cigarettes on his breath and tried in vain to push him away._

_“Sshhh, Bella. I will only hurt you, if you keep struggling,” he whispered, as he slowly rose to his feet to unzip his jeans which fell around his ankles; his erection already apparent through his underwear._

_“Please, please don’t hurt me.” Erica whimpered. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him, petrified._

_“A man has needs, Bella. It’s your duty as a woman to please me, and I won’t hurt you as long as you do what I ask of you.” He knelt in front of her once more, attempting to separate her legs. Erica screamed and lashed out with her feet; anything to prevent him from raping her. “I said I wouldn’t hurt you, but you just wouldn’t listen! Now I need to teach you some manners, bitch!” Clenching his fist, he was about to punch her in the face, when a voice from behind interrupted him. _

_“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Ambrus?” Cartwright stood in the doorway with her gun pointed directly at him, trembling slightly._

_“Just having a little fun, Leonie. No harm done. Right, Bella? But if I wanted to, you know you couldn’t have stopped me.” He stood and pulled his jeans up, then stepped towards her, and in one swift movement, grabbed Cartwright around the waist with one hand, kissing her roughly on the lips as he snatched the gun away from her with the other. “Don’t be so jealous, Leonie, it’s very unbecoming of a woman.” He slapped her hard across the face. “And never, EVER point a gun at me again, you fucking gutless whore.”_

_“I... I wasn’t thinking...” Her voice trailed off._

_He dismissed her pathetic excuse, as he shoved her gun hard into her chest, knocking the wind out of her. “Are they here, yet?”_

_“Yes, I… I just saw McMahon’s car pull up in the si-side street.” Cartwright tried to catch her breath as she rubbed the stinging mark on her face; tears now welling in her eyes._

_“Hey, you deserved that.” He held her in his muscular arms and awkwardly kissed the top of her head. “Do you understand why I had to punish you?”_

_Leonie nodded. “Because I questioned your authority.”_

_“That’s right. Learn from your mistakes and don’t repeat them, because it will only infuriate me and then l’ll have to punish you again.”_

_“I’m s-sorry, it’s all my fault,” her voice quivered into his chest._

_Repulsed at the sight of Cartwright’s emotions, he pushed her away. “Stop that!” he scolded her. “We are so close to possessing the plates that we can’t afford to lose focus, Leonie. Do you have the keys to the handcuffs?” Cartwright handed him the keys, and he released Erica from the pipe, pulling her arms behind her, securing her wrists once more. He then threw the keys back to Cartwright. “Now go and welcome our guests, while I take Bella to the exercise yard.”_

_Cartwright afforded a quick glimpse in Erica’s direction. “I said go!” She obeyed his order out of fear and promptly left the room. His temporary distraction of watching his girlfriend leave saw Erica try to make a run for it, but he was too quick and blocked her at the door. “No, Bella. You are needed elsewhere.” He slung her over his shoulder like a fireman and retrieved his shotgun, walking along the gangway and down the stairs in the opposite direction to Cartwright._

_Ambrus entered the outdoor exercise yard and placed Erica gently on the ground; the sounds of gunfire and screaming nearby. “This is where you and I part, Bella. Should I fail today, we’ll meet again, and l’ll finished what I’ve started.” He held his gun up and Erica flinched in fear. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you today if I can help it. Hopefully, your girlfriend won’t do anything stupid from preventing Leonie getting the plates, and I will spare your life.” The last thing Erica remembered was seeing the butt of the gun coming down in her direction, before her world blacked out._

_The splash of cold water upon Erica’s face brought her around. “Get up!” Cartwright screamed, as she struggled to bring Erica to her feet, and held her up from behind with her left arm hooked around Erica’s throat. “It’s time for your big debut.”_

_“Franky! Oh, Frankeeeee! Where are you, Franky? Won’t you come out and play with me? Don’t be shy!” Cartwright gave an evil laugh and waited a few seconds. “Please, Franky, if you won’t come out and play with me, then I’ll find a new friend.”_

_Cartwright whispered in Erica’s ear: “Are you ready? Make it convincing, now.” She dug the tip of the gun into the open wound on Erica’s thigh, causing her to yell out in pain._

_“Yes! That’s perfect!” She said to Erica, before shouting, “She’s so pretty, Franky! Her blonde hair is so soft to touch!”_

_She dug the tip of the gun into Erica’s thigh for a second time, ensuring another agonising scream from Erica. She then put the gun to Erica’s head and tightened her grip around her throat. “I have a feeling your girlfriend will soon join us. How much do you love Franky, Erica? Are you willing to die, so she may live?”_

**** **** ****

Erica screamed and thrashed about and it took both Franky and Bridget several minutes to convince her that she was no longer at the prison. Franky sat on the lounge and held Erica tightly in her arms, rocking her and offering soothing words of comfort and reassurance. Erica cried softly until she eventually fell asleep in Franky’s arms, then Franky gently eased her down on the lounge and motioned for Bridget and McMahon to follow her into the kitchen.

“Fuck!” Franky exclaimed. “Krampus was there!”

“You knew, didn’t you?” McMahon asked Bridget. “About a second person being there at Pentridge that day?”

Bridget nodded. “It was something Krampus said to Franky during the first phone conversation on Saint Nicholas Eve: _‘You like to threaten people, don’t you Franky?’_ After Erica’s reaction earlier, it occurred to me that perhaps he’s associated with you previously, and the only place I could think of was Pentridge. However, even I hadn’t considered he was Cartwright’s lover.”

“I’m not surprised Erica blocked this out.” Franky slapped the fridge hard with both hands. “Fuck! He would have raped her had Cartwright not intervened. I should have known something was wrong and made her talk to me.”

“I don’t think she was aware there was anything wrong. The gaps in her memory were her way of protecting herself until she was ready to face her fears,” Bridget offered. “It would have come out eventually, but was brought forward by a certain chain of events. Even something as simple as a particular word, could have triggered such deep-rooted memories.”

McMahon shook his head in disbelief. “This changes everything. The police had no idea there was another party involved, and therefore, the case was closed.”

“It always bugged me that Cartwright could manoeuvre her way quickly around D Division,” Franky said. “How she could lock and unlock certain doors in such a short time frame, yet still moved Erica when she was injured.”

“Now we know it was because Krampus - or should I say, Ambrus - was running the show at Pentridge,” said McMahon.

“Do you think he could be the true ringleader behind the whole printing plates robbery earlier this year? And if so, why did he allow you to kill Cartwright?”

“That thought crossed my mind, Franky. The police arrived shortly after and swept D Division along with the surrounding buildings within Pentridge, but no one was home, so he must have cleared out before they arrived. I’d say if he wanted to avenge Cartwright’s death, then he needed to leave undetected so he could extract his revenge at a later date when it was safe to do so. It all comes down to strategy; you have to know when to attack to achieve maximum damage.”

“Lachlan’s right.” Erica entered the kitchen looking pale and exhausted from the hypnosis. “Krampus told me in the exercise yard that we’d meet again, and he would finish what he started. It’s also what he said to me over the phone earlier, which triggered the memory.”

Franky slipped her arm around Erica’s waist. “You gonna be okay?”

Erica managed a weak smile. “I think so.”

“What else did he say, Erica?” McMahon asked.

“He sang ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’, only he re-worded it to imply that everyone on his list has been eliminated and once that happens, Franky and I are next.”

“Did he give any clue when this may occur?”

“He mentioned about dealing with one last person who escaped death the first time around, before he could come for us.”

“It has to be Alan Doyle. We must be nearing the end of the game and Krampus screwed up by not killing him,” said McMahon.

“My father? Hasn’t Krampus done enough damage to my family, already?”

“I’ll call my mate, Senior Detective Truscott and get Alan placed into protection straight away.” McMahon snatched Franky’s mobile from the kitchen bench and stepped into the lounge room to make the call.

“There’s something else,” Erica said. “It’s not the first time I’ve met Krampus. He assisted me in the supermarket carpark two weeks’ ago when my bag of groceries broke.”

“You never mentioned that,” Franky said.

“That’s because he didn’t do or say anything to make me feel uncomfortable, although I remember feeling a sense of déjà vu when he called me Bella.”

“You mentioned under hypnosis that Krampus called you Bella,” Bridget said. “Having him say it again in the carpark could be the reason you felt that way. Do you remember what he looked like?”

Erica closed her eyes and concentrated for a few moments. “From memory he was clean shaven and had long red hair tied back neatly in a ponytail. I vaguely recall exchanging pleasantries, and he wished me a Merry Christmas. That’s all I can remember but let me think about it a little more.”

“Why would he take such an enormous risk?” Franky asked Bridget. “If she had recognised him, then he would have had no choice but to kill her, or risk his game being exposed before it even started.”

“I don’t think Fortune Teller was part of his original plan. It appears he’s compiled his list beforehand intending to eliminate everyone associated with Cartwright and the printing plates. When Tess show him a kid’s game, it probably gave him the idea to have a little fun in the process.”

“So Erica was to die that day?” Franky asked.

“I believe Krampus intended for Erica to be his first victim because she was the only person who could identify him. For whatever reason, he changed his mind and spared her life.”

Erica gasped. “I remember a security guard approached us wanting to know if we’d seen a young boy who had become separated from his mother. He even asked me if I was okay.”

“That would explain why you’re still with us,” Bridget said.

“I would have died had that security guard not intervened!” Erica burst into tears. “This is all my fault. If I had mentioned Krampus was at Pentridge, then the police would have known of his involvement and the case wouldn’t have been closed.”

Franky held her close, stroking her back. “It’s not your fault. You heard McMahon - Krampus was long gone by the time the police swept the building.”

McMahon re-entered the kitchen. “Okay, there’s extra police being stationed outside Alan’s room until Truscott can move him to a safer location, and I’ve also organised for Erica’s family to be moved into protection. Luckily, Truscott’s old school like me, but even he’s asking questions and I’m not sure how much longer he can delay telling his superiors that I haven’t shifted off this mortal coil.”

“Do you trust this detective to look after our families?” Franky asked with concern.

“We’ve covered each other’s backs many times. Is that good enough for you?”

“But what about Bridget’s family and even your own family?”

“Bridget and I are dead, remember? To target our families would be pointless and therefore deemed an unnecessary high risk. So what did I miss?” McMahon listened carefully as they brought him up to date on Erica’s reunion with Krampus, along with Bridget’s theories. “It makes sense, and it’s not your fault, Erica. Don’t ever make excuses for this psychopath, okay?” Erica nodded. “Change of subject, did either of you speak to Krampus last night? Other than the ‘double trouble’ fortune and recent call to inform you of our deaths?”

Franky held up her hand. “I did. He called for another round of Fortune Teller just after you and Bridget left. I’d completely forgotten about it after Krampus called the second time because as you know, it all went to shit after that.”

“What was the fortune?”

Franky pulled the note from her pocket and read it. “‘I’m bring back the death penalty.’ He mentioned it was our lucky day, and he was about to do us a favour. No idea what he meant.”

“I do. When I was talking to Truscott about moving Alan, he said Dimi Grigoris was found dead in his cell at Walford Prison two hours’ ago. It appears correctional officers were paid off to turn their backs long enough for four prisoners to enter his cell after lock up and teach him a lesson about prison hierarchy after his attempt to challenge the top dog, failed. Unfortunately for Grigoris, they had other ideas and stabbed him over thirty times.”

Erica winced. “The hitman who killed Craig Pickering and Shane Barlow and nearly killed Bridget?”

“Hole in one,” McMahon said.

Franky scoffed. “More like thirty holes.”

“That’s in poor taste!” Erica scolded her.

“The bastard deserved it. Right, Gidge?”

“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear the news. Details, McMahon?”

“A prisoner came clean when police explained to him he was facing an extra twenty years - a young first timer doing six months for a home burg. Said someone left twenty thousand dollars cash on all their partners’ doorsteps, but they never met the person responsible. The kid’s now in protection due to the other three prisoners wanting him dead for lagging and costing them an extended sentence and their little nest egg.”

“And you believe Krampus is responsible?” Erica asked.

“There was a Christmas card left on the Grigoris’ body with the words, ‘Welcome to The Hit List. Krampus’.”

“When Krampus rang earlier, he said he had struck you and Bridget off a hit list,” Franky said.

McMahon pulled a Christmas card from his pocket and held it up for everyone to see. “Dan’s Christmas card welcomed him to the Hit List, not to mention Bridget’s and my card, too.”

“But what about your other colleagues, Melissa and Clive, McMahon?” Franky asked. “They have nothing to do with us, yet they received Christmas cards. Where do they fit in?”

“Sacrifices. Like I’ve mentioned before - wrong place, wrong time. Krampus is purposely adding sacrifices to his original Hit List to distract the police and therefore prevent them from identifying his true objective - to engage Franky in Fortune Teller by using her family as leverage and killing us, because the one thing we all have in common, is Cartwright and the stolen plates.

“Going by your theory, McMahon, the original Hit List would comprise Dimi Grigoris, Daniel Bailey, you, Bridget, Erica and me. Everyone else was fodder?” Franky asked.

“Exactly,” McMahon said. “It’s the reason Krampus was insistent you not mention him to the police regarding Tess’ kidnapping and Alan’s attempted murder. And by not leaving a Christmas card at the scene where Alan was found, ensured the police wouldn’t make the connection between Krampus’ Hit List and Fortune Teller.”

“And Nadia. The police told me earlier they believe the same person who took Tess, would be responsible for Nadia's murder. But what I don't understand, is the police would have discovered the connection eventually, because you and Bridget received a Chrismas card.”

“No, because had Krampus’ plan succeeded, then the card would have perished in the explosion.”

“It’s like a magician with a pack of cards,” Bridget said. “Where he distracts his audience with one hand, while performing the trick with the other hand.”

“The song he sang over the phone to me ended with the words, ‘Krampus will be hunting you down’ must only refer to me,” Erica said. “I’ll bet that’s why he didn’t want to speak to Franky.”

Franky gasped. “Shit, you’re right, McMahon. It’s become a game of revenge where Krampus has predetermined his kills in a specific order since kidnapping Tess. Erica’s the final name on The Hit List before Krampus comes after me because he’s sadistic enough to want me to witness her death first. Once everyone has been eliminated, he could simply vanish and the police would have no hope of finding him, because there would be no witnesses.”

“That also means Tess must die, too,” McMahon pointed out to her.

Bridget shook her head at the thought. “We need to hide Erica so he can’t kill her and then go after Franky and Tess.”

“I could stay with Marty. He’s living in a small bungalow at Montsalvat while doing his artist program, but lives off the grid and moves around so the debt collectors won’t find him. He doesn’t have a driver’s license and has all his mail sent here.”

“Great idea, but you’ll still need this for protection.” Franky retrieved the gun from the coffee table and handed it to her.

“No, I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger.”

“I don’t approve of guns in inexperienced hands, but Franky’s right, take the gun, Erica. Even if it’s not loaded, it could be enough to deter Krampus long enough for you to escape,” McMahon said. “That’s one problem sorted, but we still need to act fast. In a couple of hours, the car explosion will be all over the news, and it will be only a matter of time before Krampus discovers Bridget and I weren’t in the carnage, and we’ll lose any advantage we may have over him. He needs confirmation of our passing so he’ll strike our names off his hit list and make a move on Erica. Only this time, we’ll be ready for him.”

“How are we going to do that?” Erica asked.

“With the help of the media,” McMahon said. “Unfortunately, my contact for Channel 8 has transferred interstate, but maybe I could get Truscott to ask around. There’s always desperate reporters gunning for an exclusive story to get ahead.”

Franky laughed. “Hey Erica, who do we know fits that description?”

“You girls know someone? Cause we would need their help to set up false stories to stop Krampus from knowing the truth and perhaps set him up to be captured. Think your friend can handle that?”

“She’s no friend, but I’d say she’d be desperate enough if she thought it would make her look good to her superiors,” Erica said. “Besides, that bitch owes me. I’ll make the call.”

A short while later, Haley Jovanka - who was now sporting a new blonde, shoulder-length hairdo - turned up on the doorstep and pushed Franky aside, whisking past her like she owned the place. “Well, if it isn’t the rent-a-cop, the old psych, the ex-con and her lover.” Haley scanned her surroundings. “Interesting choice of decor, even if it is a few years out of date.”

“Like your career,” Erica mumbled loud enough for Haley to hear.

“Erica Davidson - long time, no see. You got screwed over by Vera Bennett when you were governor. All it took was some beauty tips from me and she dished the goods on you.”

“Still doing the monumental scrap-heap reporting, Haley? If that doesn’t pan out, you can always start your own beauty blog. Maybe your first article should be about how not to bleach hair.”

Haley was about to retaliate when McMahon intervened. “Shut it, Jovanka, you and I both know your slate isn’t clean.” McMahon rose from his seat and used his imposing height to his advantage to tower over her and stare her down. Haley looked up at him and decided it wasn’t wise to challenge him. “Now we have the formalities over and done with, how would you like to be the journalist who exposes Krampus?”

“Krampus? The psycho responsible for the recent spate of murders across Melbourne?”

“The same one. He’s also responsible for kidnapping Franky’s younger sister and the attempted murder of Alan Doyle.”

“I call bullshit. The police mentioned nothing about Krampus being associated with the Doyles.”

“That’s because the only people who know, are in this room. Should the police become involved, Tess dies.”

“And you’ve invited me here because you need my help? Aww, how sweet.”

“We need you to report some fake stories to put him off the scent, and under no circumstances are you to mention Krampus to anybody, or I’ll hold you responsible for Tess’ safety.”

“Even I wouldn’t intentionally endanger a kid’s life, but I demand exclusive rights to interview Krampus.”

“Once we’ve set the trap, I suspect he’ll be the one calling you requesting an interview. You set it up and we’ll take over from that point.”

“Assuming you catch him. From what I can see, you’re using me to capture Krampus, with no opportunity to interview him.”

“You’ll still get your story, but only once the police have finished with him. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

“Seems like a big risk for such little reward.”

“Not if you do exactly what you’re told. Look, Jovanka, if you want to further your career, play our game and you’ll get your guaranteed front page news. May even be worthy of a Pulitzer Prize for excellence in journalism.”

“A Walkley Award. The Pulitzer is American, Dum-Dum.”

McMahon saw the look of greed in her eyes and knew she was poised to take the bait, but goaded her anyway. “I can see you’re waiving due to your disapproval of the conditions. Could you at least give us a name of someone who is reliable and will help us?”

“Nice try, Rent-A-Cop, and under normal circumstances, it would offend me at having my intelligence insulted. However, I detest the thought of my fellow vultures swooping in and stealing my impending glory, so deal me in.”


	9. The Kiss of Death

Krampus checked his watch as he prepared breakfast. Ten minutes until the morning news. Generally, he avoided all media, resentful at how they manipulated and moulded the lemmings, but after the events of last night, he was looking forward to seeing their interpretation. _After all, three murders in one night is big news, right? How could they possibly fuck that up?_ He loaded the serving tray with a bowl of Fruit Loops, apple juice and two kids DVD’s, and headed downstairs.  
  
“I’m bored with DVD’s. I want to watch normal TV,” Tess whined as Krampus entered the makeshift bedroom converted from a storeroom.  
  
“I’ve told you previously, no.”  
  
“Can we play hide and seek?”  
  
“No. I have your favourite cereal - Fruit Loops.”  
  
“I hate Fruit Loops. I want Coco Pops!”  
  
Krampus slammed the tray down hard, spilling milk and Fruit Loops on the small table. “JUST EAT THE DAMN CEREAL!”  
  
_Annoying little shit, just like your sister!_  
  
Tess cowered at being shouted at harshly, and he could see the tell-tale signs of an upset child.  
  
_Say something before she cries! I can’t handle snivelling brats!_  
  
“We’ll play later after I go to the supermarket and buy some Coco Pops.”  
  
“I want Franky. When’s she coming to pick me up?”  
  
“I promise you’ll see her in a couple of days. Now eat your breakfast or I’ll tell Franky and she’ll punish you for not doing what you’re told.”  
  
Krampus locked the door behind him and headed back to the staff room, shaking his head in disbelief that a child made him lose his cool. He made himself comfortable in the old cosy armchair, smiling to himself as he imagined the breaking headlines: _Krampus evades capture and continues his murderous spree across Melbourne, with police no closer to finding him!_  
  
“Because I am Death! Let them try to catch me!” Krampus announced to the empty room.  
  
_“Good morning, viewers. Alan Doyle, who was brutally bashed two weeks’ ago, died in hospital overnight. Doctors switched off the life support after conferring with his daughter, Francesca_._”_

Krampus watched with interest as Haley Jovanka purposely blocked Franky and Erica’s path, as they attempted to leave via the hospital’s main entrance during the night.  
  
_“Franky, how does it feel that your father is finally at rest?”_  
  
_“He’s at peace, now. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the public for their messages of support and I now ask that you respect our privacy during this difficult time.”  
  
“Have you heard any more about your sister?”  
  
“No comment.”_  
  
Krampus laughed out loud. “Looks like you’ve had a bad night, Franky, but at least you’re smart enough to keep your mouth shut about Tess. As for Alan, his death was a bonus as it saved me the hassle of having to go back and finish the job, however, I’ll contact my source to confirm his death, just in case.”  
  
The newsreader crossed over to Haley once more, but in a different location.  
  
_“Two people died when their car exploded in flames. Authorities have identified the victims as Lachlan McMahon, a twenty-year police veteran who retired from the force recently, and Bridget Westfall, a prison psychologist at Wentworth Correctional Centre...”_  
  
“Yes!” Krampus shouted out in victory. “Two more notches for my notoriety! You are the bearer of good news, Ms Jovanka.”  
  
_“Witnesses at the scene said the car swerved to avoid hitting a dog, causing it to veer off the road and smashing head-on into a tree. Fire crews had to use the jaws of life to free the deceased from the wreckage.”_  
  
“What?” Krampus shouted at the TV once more. “That’s not what happened!”  
  
_“In other news, Dimi Grigoris, the hitman involved in the theft of the printing plates from Note Printing Australia, was found dead in his cell from a suspected drug overdose. Police believe there were no suspicious circumstances involved...”_  
  
“No! It was my doing! How dare you fucking rain on my parade!” He picked up the small flat screen TV and threw it across the room. “Fucking media! You’ll pay dearly, for your lies!”  
  
**** **** ****  
  
On the other side of the city, Franky, Erica and McMahon watched the same news report.  
  
“Do you think he saw all three reports?” Erica asked McMahon.  
  
“Yes, he saw it. He’s using the media to feed his ego and this time it didn’t deliver due to incorrect facts. He'll feel cheated of his glory and won’t be able to resist the need to set the record straight. I'd say he’ll be contacting Jovanka shortly for an interview.“  
  
“What about my father?”  
  
“Truscott has organised for a fake death certificate, in case Krampus investigates the matter. That should be enough to put Alan in the clear.”  
  
“I hope Tess didn’t see the report, McMahon,” Franky said with concern.  
  
“Krampus won’t risk Tess viewing the footage because the last thing he’ll want, is to deal with a distressed youngster with no mute button.”  
  
McMahon called Haley’s mobile which went straight to message bank, then called Channel 8. Moments later, he hung up, a look of concern etched upon his face.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Erica asked him.  
  
“Haley’s out covering a headline story and she’s not picking up her mobile. The receptionist said she’ll call me when she returns to the station.”  
  
“You don’t think she would meet up with Krampus without notifying you first?”  
  
“Let’s hope not. We’ll just have to wait until she makes contact.”  
  
Bridget came out of the study and set her laptop on the dining room table.  
  
“Jesus, Gidge, you look like you were up all night.”  
  
“Almost. I found something important which may help our profile on Krampus.” She opened the file she had complied on him. “I’ve been examining the note sent with your surprise package, and one thing which has pique my interest, is the spelling of Krampus’ name, or more precisely, Krampusz spelt with a ‘z’.”  
  
Franky glanced over Bridget’s shoulder and re-read the note out loud: “’Never question my integrity - Krampusz.’ I didn’t pick up on that.”  
  
McMahon pulled the Christmas card from his pocket and examined it. “This card’s spelt the same way. Is it possible he’s misspelt it?”  
  
“I don’t think so, he’s much too precise for that. That said, his attention to detail may have unintentionally given us a clue because there’s only one country which spells Krampusz that way, and that’s Hungary.”  
  
“Do you think this guy could be Hungarian?”  
  
“It’s a strong possibility. He would have learnt to spell it when he was growing up, and in all likelihood, maintained that into his adult years. Erica, when you spoke to Krampusz in the carpark, did he have an accent?”  
  
“Just an ordinary Aussie accent. More of a city dialect, rather than from the country or Outback.”  
  
“What about when he held you hostage at Pentridge prison?”  
  
Erica took a few moments to reflect before replying. “I remember he was hard to understand, but I put it down to the loss of blood I had suffered at the time.”  
  
“But he could have had a Hungarian accent?”  
  
“I have no idea what a Hungarian accent sounds like, but I suppose so. I guess the only person who could confirm his heritage, is lying six feet under.”  
  
Franky gasped. “You’ve just given me an idea. Gidge, do me a favour and bring up Leonie Cartwright on Facebook.”  
  
McMahon quickly cut in. “But not through your account. I don’t want anyone to see you online, or they’ll know you’re alive.”  
  
Bridget did what he instructed. “There’s about thirty different accounts.”  
  
“Look for one without a profile picture,” Franky suggested. “When I was sussing her out a few months back, I kind of got the impression she wasn’t a fan of social media.”  
  
Bridget opened up eleven different pages before Franky recognised the correct profile. “That’s the one! Scroll down, there’s should be some pictures of a farewell party.”

"That's him!" Erica pointed to a photo of Cartwright standing between a man and a woman, with her arms around their waists. "That's what Krampusz looked like at Pentridge, although he'd changed his physical appearance significantly in the carpark a couple of weeks ago, with the long red hair."  
  
Everyone gathered around to scrutinize the picture closely, except Bridget, who stood up and walked away. Krampusz appeared tall, with shoulder-length sandy coloured hair, and brown eyes.  
  
“Must have been a wig, cause in this photo he has slicked back hair, and looks in desperate need of a shave,” Franky said.  
  
McMahon claimed Bridget’s vacated seat and connected a USB in the laptop’s slot. “Excellent sleuthing, Franky. I’ll need to run this picture against the criminal database. Hopefully, this guy has priors, although I doubt it given he’s flown under the radar so far. Erica, other than Krampusz’ long red hair and being clean-shaven, are there any other details you can now recall from meeting him in the carpark?”  
  
“Yes, he wore business attire, had green eyes and was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, too. We came eye to eye when he gave me back my car keys and I remember thinking how striking his eyes were.”  
  
McMahon was impressed. “You remember all of that?”  
  
“Bridget’s hypnosis session exhausted me emotionally, however, it also helped free up other memories afterwards.”  
  
“Krampusz is obviously a fan of disguises, but given the photo’s not tagged on Facebook, I’d say he’s not aware or he would have demanded Cartwright delete the post. What we have here, is the real deal. Good team work, ladies.”  
  
Franky noticed Bridget standing alone, gazing out the window, and ventured over. “Gidge? Are you okay?”  
  
She appeared deep in thought. “It can’t possibly be! How could I have been so oblivious?”  
  
“Can’t be what? Tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
Bridget moved back to the laptop and pointed to the woman standing next to Cartwright.  
  
Franky inspected the image of the woman with mousse-coloured hair. “I remember this chick. According to the post, she’s Cartwright’s half-sister, Cassie. Do you know her?”  
  
“Yes, but not as Cassie,” Bridget hesitated. “But as Lydia.”  
  
Franky took a moment to let this sink in. “Lydia? As in your new girlfriend?”  
  
“Are you saying you’re in a relationship with Cartwright’s half-sister?” McMahon asked Bridget.  
  
“I... it appears so, but I had no idea.” Bridget looked at Franky, feeling guilty. “I’m so sorry, Franky.”  
  
“How could you not know, Gidge?”  
  
“She doesn’t like to discuss her past, claiming it’s too painful.”  
  
“She mentioned nothing at all?”  
  
“Her sister was murdered, but she wouldn’t elaborate.” Bridget grimaced, realising how bad it sounded.  
  
“That’s hardly trivial. You never thought to question her more? Given you’re trained in psychology and all that shit? Cause, you know, it would have been handy to know upfront that you’re dating Cartwright’s little demonic half-sister who wants to extract her revenge.”  
  
“Franky, that’s not fair. Bridget had no way of knowing-“  
  
“Stay out of this, Erica,” Franky warned. “So all of this time it was you telling her?”  
  
“Anything I may have said, was unintentional...”  
  
“Tell that to my father who is still fighting for his life! Not to mention you’ve put all our fucking lives in jeopardy!”  
  
McMahon stood between Bridget and Franky. “Pull your bloody head in, I won’t warn you again.”  
  
Franky stood her ground against him. “Why? Bridget’s carelessness is the reason that so many people are dead!” She made eye contact with Bridget once more. “Some psychologist you are, letting Cartwright’s sister take you for a ride! She must have been a better fuck than me after all-”  
  
“Franky, stop it!” Erica reprimanded her.  
  
“-And if Tess dies, it will be all your fault!”  
  
McMahon grabbed Franky by the back of her shirt and frog-marched her down the passageway, shoving her into the ensuite off the master bedroom and wedging a chair under the doorknob so she couldn’t open it. Franky cussed and thumped the door a few times.  
  
“You’re staying in there until you’ve cooled off and common sense prevails once more!”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Bridget,” Erica tried to console her. “Franky was way out of line.”  
  
“No, she’s right, it is my fault. I let my guard down and fucked up.”  
  
“You didn’t fuck up,” McMahon interrupted, as he limped back into the lounge room. “Everyone seems hell-bent on blaming either themselves or one another, when Krampusz is the one responsible for all this mess. He’s been head-fucking us all along causing us to self-doubt and turn on one another. Bridget, I need you to tell me everything you know about Lydia. Start by telling me how and where you first met her.”  
  
“We met at the beach which I frequent...”  
  
“Half Moon Bay?” Erica asked. “Where we met a few months back?”  
  
“Yes, I go there regularly to think. About two months’ ago, Lydia sat on the bench beside me, and we struck up a conversation. We continued to meet there a few more times before she asked me out to dinner. Not long after, we started dating.”  
  
“What does she do for a living?”  
  
“She is a mortician for a funeral home. Shit, this just keeps getting better, doesn’t it? No wonder Franky’s furious with me.”  
  
Erica gasped. “Daniel Bailey said Krampusz had to have basic medical knowledge to perform the amputation, along with access to a supply of fresh cadavers.”  
  
McMahon nodded. “Then I’d say Lydia ticks every box. Did she say which place she worked at, Bridget?”  
  
“No, I’m sorry. She didn’t like to discuss her work as it could get depressing and I didn’t think it was fair to question her. I figured with time she would feel more comfortable divulging her life’s details. How could I not know it was Lydia when it’s so obvious?”  
  
“It is now, but it’s not the sort of thing you expect your partner to be involved in,” Erica offered. “Stop beating yourself up.”  
  
“Erica’s right. It explains how Krampusz could infiltrate the Christmas party to kill Dan. Lydia would have used her connections to see who attended that night and Clive Dorset was picked as the unlucky recipient, destined to die for the cause. As for Melissa Atkins, she would still be alive today if she hadn’t challenged Krampusz in the staff room.”  
  
“So Cassie...”  
  
“McMahon held his hand up to halt Erica from continuing. “Call her Lydia. I don’t want anyone to slip up by mentioning her real name in front of her.”  
  
“Okay, Lydia. She too is seeking revenge for her half-sister? They must have been plotting this straight after Leonie Cartwright’s death. Bridget was a perfect target, because it allowed Lydia to get close to us without raising suspicions, but remain on the outer to appear inconspicuous.”  
  
“Sounds like a tactic her sister would pull. Did she ask questions about Franky and Erica? Perhaps she feinted interest in any passing comments you may have casually mentioned?”  
  
“Not really. Wait, there was that time when Franky disappeared and Erica rang me. Lydia and I were having lunch in a restaurant and I remember having to calm Erica down.”  
  
“Would Lydia have known what you were talking about?”  
  
“She mentioned it sounded serious, even though she admitted she had no idea what I was talking about.”  
  
“Did you mention Krampusz by name?”  
  
“I don’t know… I may have dropped it in conversation with Erica.”  
  
“You did. I remember you telling me not to tell Krampusz that we’d had an argument,” Erica reminded her.  
  
Bridget gasped. “I just remembered asking Erica if she had kept McMahon up to date on the situation.”  
  
“That would explain how Krampusz knew of my involvement in the game.”  
  
“I feel so bad about this. Franky’s right, Lydia played me and it nearly cost us our lives.”  
  
“Krampusz would have flushed me out with the CCTV footage. Lydia just confirmed what he already suspected.”  
  
“What can I do to make it right?”  
  
“Do you know Lydia’s phone number?”  
  
“Not offhand. I programmed it into my mobile, which I lost.”  
  
“Are you friends with her on social media?”  
  
“Just Facebook, but I haven’t spoken to her, as per your request not to contact anyone.”  
  
“I need you to message her.”  
  
“You want Bridget to contact the one person who’s guaranteed to give us away? To give up our advantage?” Erica asked.  
  
“Yes, and if you’re willing, Bridget, I want you to set up a meeting with her. It’s time we found out what Lydia knows.”  
  
“If it will help find Tess and capture Krampusz, I’ll do it.”  
  
“Bridget, that’s crazy!”  
  
“We’ll take precautions,” McMahon said. “You’ll be wired and armed, and I’ll ensure we’ll set the location so it works to our advantage.”  
  
“What about Haley?” Erica reminded McMahon. “Shouldn’t we at least wait until she calls?”  
  
“We don’t know how long she’ll be, but it’s always handy to have more than one option available. That said, it’s up to you, Bridget.”  
  
“Franky will not like this.” Erica warned them both.  
  
“It’s my decision to make. When do we make contact, McMahon?”  
  
“ASAP. In the meantime, I think it’s time to let the wildcat out of her cage.”  
  
Bridget walked into the master bedroom and removed the chair from under the doorknob, knocking softly.  
  
“Come in, Gidget.”  
  
Bridget entered and sat beside Franky on the floor. “How did you know if was me?”  
  
“A wild hunch. That, and your trademark perfume.”  
  
“I had no idea my perfume was so strong.”  
  
“When I was in Wentworth, I could smell you a mile off and it drove me wild with passion. All I can say is thank fuck I didn’t have to share my cell with anyone at night!”  
  
Bridget laughed. “Glad I could be of help. Seriously though, I’m sorry for your father and for endangering Tess’ life.”  
  
“No, I should be the one apologising. I said some nasty things, which I wish I could take back. I know you would never intentionally endanger any of us, and as per usual, I let my temper get the better of me and needed to blame someone. You were a convenient choice, because Krampusz isn’t here for me to knock his block off.”  
  
“Listen, you know I want Tess back as much as you do, right?” Franky nodded in agreement. “It appears McMahon has worked out a way we can use Lydia to locate Krampusz.”  
  
Franky immediately understood what McMahon had meant. “No fucking way!”  
  
“Franky...”  
  
“He wants you to be the bait right?”  
  
“It could be the only way to expose Krampusz.”  
  
“Not an option. I never want to feel the way I felt when Krampusz told me you were dead. l’ll not risk losing you again.”  
  
“Time is running out and we don’t know if or when Haley will contact us. This may be our only chance to get Tess back.”  
  
“Then I’ll go in your place.”  
  
“You know that won’t work. If Lydia sees you, she’ll call off the meeting and contact Krampusz. What McMahon’s proposing, makes sense. I can handle Lydia.”  
  
“But can you handle Krampusz?”  
  
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that.” Bridget got to her feet, holding her hand out to help Franky up. “We really need you in on this one.”  
  
Franky returned to the lounge room, and despite not being impressed with McMahon, she conceded there was no other way. “So where will they meet?” she asked.  
  
“Somewhere private," said McMahon. "Bridget will tell Lydia she’s in hiding, because her life would be in danger should Krampusz discover she survived. We need to convince Lydia that Bridget has no idea who she really is, or she won’t play our game.”  
  
“Standstead House in Brunswick,” Franky suggested. “It’s a halfway house where most crims stay when they’re released from prison until they can get on their feet and afford something better. I stayed there for a short while after Wentworth and although it’s the biggest shithole, it’s also the last place anyone would use as a safe house, which makes it perfect.”  
  
“Excellent idea,” McMahon said. “And it so happens I know the caretaker of that place, given the amount of times I went out there to deal with parole violations. He’s a nasty piece of work, but I reckon I could lean on him to let us borrow a couple of his rooms.”  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Bridget bounced on the narrow, single bed with its squeaky springs, and observed her surroundings. The once white walls were now stained yellow from years of neglect and cigarette smoke, which complimented the threadbare carpet. The small, sparsely furnished room offered a wooden chest of drawers with all the handles missing, a rusted metal clothes rack with a few dangling coat hangers, and a small table and one chair. “I could get used to this minus five star accommodation,” she mused.  
  
At McMahon’s request, Erica had visited the chemist to purchase a hand and wrist pressure bandage with a splint attached, along with a new pair of crutches for McMahon, dropping it off at the bedsit before heading to Montslavat where Marty kept her company. Franky and Bridget now watched as McMahon removed the splint from its long, narrow pouch, and in its place he carefully inserted a slimline scalpel with half of the handle filed down to enable it to fit.  
  
“Dare I ask where you got this from?” Bridget asked McMahon.  
  
“One advantage of working at the Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine, is you have access to all kinds of autopsy tools. Hold out your left hand.” He attached the bandage around her hand and wrist.  
  
“Won’t Lydia be suspicious?”  
  
“Nope, because she’ll be expecting to see it. That said, you’re supposed to have restrictive movement, so don’t go picking up any items.” Next, he concealed a tiny microphone within the folds of the bandage. “Try to rest your palm facing down on the table, to help minimise noise and further conceal the microphone. Remember, although we can hear the conversation, we cannot speak to you.” McMahon handed Bridget a burner mobile. “Time to make contact.”  
  
“What do I say?”  
  
“I’ll tell you what to say, but essentially, the truth, but only enough to entice her over.”  
  
Bridget opened the Facebook app on the mobile and typed:  
  
_Lydia? Are you there?_  
_>_  
_>_  
_>_  
_Lydia? Please tell me you’re online._  
_>_  
_>_  
_>_  
_>_  
_Bridget? Is that really you?_  
_>_  
_Yes, it’s me!_  
_>_  
_Thank God you’re alive! But the media said you were killed in an accident along with some guy? I tried to call you, but your phone just kept going straight to message bank. Are you okay?_  
_>_  
_We jumped clear of the car before it exploded, but I lost my phone. I’ve badly dislocated my left hand and wrist, so it’s now in a bandaged splint. Still very painful to touch._  
_>_  
_But why did they say you were dead?_  
_>_  
_Because there’s a man named Krampus who tried to kill us and we needed to make him think he’s succeeded. That way he’ll leave us alone._  
_>_  
_Why is he trying to kill you?_  
_>_  
_Remember my friends I told you about at the restaurant? Krampus wants them dead._  
_>_  
_Seriously? Where are you now?_  
_>_  
_McMahon has organised a safe house for me until he can catch Krampus._  
_>_  
_Is McMahon with you?_  
_>_  
_No, he’s protecting Franky and Erica because now Krampus thinks we are dead, he’ll be going after them._  
_>_  
_But you need protection too! Please tell me the police are there?_  
_>_  
_No. Krampus told Franky if the police get involved, he would kill Tess._  
_>_  
_But what if this guy finds you? He’ll kill you!_  
_>_  
_McMahon reckons it’s the last place he would think of looking. Lydia, we know who Krampus is!_  
_>_  
_>_  
_>_  
_Who?_  
_>_  
_We know he’s Hungarian, because he spelt his name with a ‘z’, and more importantly, Erica remembers him from Pentridge when he held her hostage. He’s finally made a mistake and McMahon reckons it’s only a matter of time before he’s caught, which is why it’s imperative that I stay hidden, or his guard will be up._  
_>_  
_I hope he doesn’t discover you know his true identity._  
_>_  
_He won’t as long as we’re careful._  
_>_  
_So no one knows, other than the four of you?_  
_>_  
_No one. Promise me you won’t tell anyone, even the police?_  
_>_  
_I don’t like this at all._  
_>_  
_We can’t afford to risk telling anyone or Krampusz could walk free!_  
  
_Ok, I promise I won’t tell them, but I need to see you._  
_>_  
_I can’t! I promised McMahon I wouldn’t tell anyone the location. Even Franky doesn’t know, so Krampusz can’t find out.”_  
_>_  
_But you must be so scared, being alone!_  
_>_  
_I’m not going to lie, I’d feel a lot safer if I had company._  
_>_  
_Then I’m coming over. Tell me where you are._  
_>_  
_But you could endanger your own life!_  
_>_  
_I can’t leave you alone. If Krampusz shows up, then at least it will be two against one._  
_>_  
_>_  
_>_  
_Bridget? I love you. Please, let me help you._  
_>_  
_>_  
_>_  
_Ok. There’s an old pub next to Brunswick Railway Station, which has been converted into a bedsit for ex-crims. It’s called Standstead House. I’m in room 11 on the second floor._  
_>_  
_I’ll find it. See you soon and don’t open the door to anyone. xxx_  
  
**** **** ****  
  
“I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe we can ambush Lydia as soon as she walks in the room?”  
  
“You know that won’t work, Franky. We need the right information if we’re to have any hope of tracing Krampusz, and Bridget’s relationship with Lydia is our only connection.”  
  
“Then l vote we beat the living shit out of her until she tells us.”  
  
“Subtlety is not one of your strong points, is it?” McMahon did a quick sound check to ensure the acoustics within the room didn’t interfere with the earpiece he had just inserted in his ear. “What’s your safe word, Bridget?”  
  
“I think that’s the first time I’ve been asked that question outside my own bedroom,” Bridget quipped. When she saw her attempt at humour didn’t raise a smile from neither McMahon nor Franky, she replied, “It’s ‘psycho’.”  
  
“If Lydia so much as looks at you the wrong way, don’t be afraid to use it. Same goes for the scalpel. We’ll crash this party, pronto.”  
  
“Now I know what being a spy feels like. Who do I need to ask, for danger money?”  
  
“This isn’t funny, Gidge,” Franky scolded her. “Stay alert.”  
  
Bridget smiled. “I know, but right now it’s my only way of dealing with my nerves.”  
  
“Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”  
  
“Isn’t that something I would normally say to you?”  
  
Franky chuckled. “Yeah, who would have thought I’d be the sensible one?”  
  
Franky and McMahon left Bridget alone and settled into the room next door. “Here, put this on,” McMahon instructed, as he handed her a spare earpiece. “Otherwise you’ll drive me nuts with all your questions. Remember to turn your mobile off, to prevent any risk of unnecessary static or interference. Once Lydia enters the room, we go silent. Not one word. We can’t afford to fuck this up, understand?”  
  
Franky nodded as she switched her phone off. “Okay, but Bridget is very dear to me. If anything happens to her...”  
  
“Fair enough. I’d be making the same threats if I were in your shoes.”  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Marty laid out a whole French breadstick on the small kitchen bench in his bungalow and filled it with honey ham, mortadella, salami, Swiss cheese and sun-dried tomatoes, topped with Dijon mustard. “Mmm, delicious! Master Chef eat your heart out. Thanks for bringing some real food around. Are you sure you don’t want any?”  
  
Erica shook her head. “No thanks, I’m not in the mood to eat. Are you going to eat that entire roll?”  
  
“It’s only a small snack to tide me over until dinner.”  
  
“It’s half a metre long! Seriously, how come you never put on any weight?”  
  
“Check the toilet bowl in a few hours.” Marty tore off a large piece and scoffed it down with a banana smoothie. “What’s for dinner?”  
  
Erica cringed and was about to tell him where he could stick his dinner, when her mobile rang. “That has to be Franky, she said she’ll call once they sort Lydia. Hello, Franky?”  
  
“Wrong. Guess again, Bella.”  
  
In the past, Erica felt fear whenever she was force to speak to Krampusz, but after her hypnosis, hearing his fake voice instantly infuriated her. “Okay, how about... Ambrus?”  
  
There was a long pause. “You’ve finally remembered who I am? That’s good, because old friends should never keep secrets from one another.”  
  
“Old friends? Is that the lie you fed Cartwright after you nearly raped me? She was your lover and you’re out to avenge her death.”  
  
“Yes, she was my lover, however, I never loved her and I can assure you she’s not worth avenging.”  
  
“Then what’s with this game you’re playing?”  
  
“Your little group can’t just waltz in, ruin my plans and take what’s mine. I couldn’t care that Cartwright died, but to kill her without my consent, and to take the printing plates means you must pay the consequences. My mistake was I relied on too many people last time and they all let me down. This time, I won’t be making those mistakes again.”  
  
“So you’ve spat the dummy because things didn’t go your way and now you’re killing everyone associated with the printing plates, when it was your fault.”  
  
“Don’t you dare blame me for other people’s inadequacies!”  
  
“You were in charge, therefore it’s your responsibility, Ambrus.”  
  
“Don’t call me that!”  
  
“Why not? According to you, we’re old friends, unlike all those people who died under your leadership, not to mention the botched job on the robbery.”  
  
“It was beyond my control!”  
  
“Like the time we met in the carpark two weeks ago? You must have been furious when that security guard interrupted our conversation which prevented you from killing me.”  
  
“You were lucky that day, but your death is imminent and I’m looking forward to our long-awaited reunion, Bella. Then, it’s Franky’s turn.”  
  
“This time I’m prepared for you. You thrive on people’s fears and I’m not afraid of you anymore.”  
  
“Easier said than done. So now you know who I am, but have you deciphered the clues to discover where you’ll find me?”  
  
“The clues! Thanks for the reminder.” Erica slammed the phone down.  
  
“The way you spoke to him makes your bigger balls than mine, Jeffrey,” Marty said nervously.  
  
“I don’t care, anymore.”  
  
“Have you worked out where he is?”  
  
“Krampusz made it clear to me recently that we’re nearing the finish line, however he’s just reminded me that we have not yet used the clues from the lightbulbs.”  
  
“You’re killing me with the suspense. Would you like me to perform a drum roll?”  
  
“The words on the three light bulbs were, ‘Death awaits those who come ill-prepared to the green palm’. When Krampusz called to send us to Luna Park, he said to Franky, ‘Some palms are greener than others, and then there are those which are dead’. I thought nothing of it at the time, but what if ‘dead’ is another clue? Bridget said Lydia works at a funeral home, right?”  
  
Marty watched over Erica’s shoulder as she googled funeral homes on her phone. “There are a lot of parlours in Melbourne, sis.”  
  
“Yes,” Erica said, holding the screen up for Marty to see. “But only one called Green Palm Funerals. This has to be where Krampusz is holding Tess captive.”  
  
“And the death awaits those part? Where does that shit fit in?”  
  
“It’s a warning that we need to face Krampusz and there can only be one winner.”  
  
“You mean one survivor. Please tell me you’re not going to rescue Tess on your own?”  
  
“I have no choice.” Erica retrieved the gun from her handbag, slapping the clip in hard and flipping the safety on, just like Franky had taught her. “At least I won’t be ill-prepared.”  
  
“No way, that is exactly what this screwball wants you to do. Are you forgetting you're next on his list?”  
  
“Every minute counts, and I can’t contact Franky or McMahon as they’ll have their mobiles switched off until Lydia leaves. I’ll send them a text with the details and hopefully they’ll meet me there.”  
  
“Here’s a crazy idea - how about making use of our taxpayer dollars and call the police?”  
  
“No, the rules state that Krampusz will kill Tess if the police are present at the end of the game.”  
  
“Then I’m coming with you.”  
  
“He’ll kill you if you enter the game.”  
  
“I’m not letting you leave this place, alone. I’ll tie you to a chair if necessary.”  
  
“Fine, I don’t have time to argue.” Erica handed Marty the gun. “Make yourself useful and hold on to this. Maybe we can use it to bluff our way out with Krampusz.”  
  
“And if that doesn’t work?”  
  
“You can belt him with that breadstick.”  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Franky and McMahon waited in silence, until finally, they heard a knock on the door in the next room. McMahon quickly pressed the button on the recording device.  
  
“Bridget? It’s Lydia, please open up.”  
  
Bridget invited her in and closed the door behind her, careful to ensure it remained unlocked, so McMahon and Franky could enter the room easily, should the need arise.  
  
Lydia leaned in to kiss Bridget, but she instinctively pulled away, a scowl appearing across her face. The thought of who Lydia really was, repulsed her, and for the first time she understood how hard it would have been for Franky to resist the urge to punch someone in the face.  
  
“Did I do something wrong?”  
  
_Yeah, you two-faced bitch. You used and nearly killed me._ “I’m sorry, but I accidentally brushed my injured hand against you, causing a sudden jolt of pain up my left arm.”  
  
“Are you sure it’s not broken? Let me have a look at it.”  
  
Bridget stepped back and cradled the hand close to her chest. “I’ve had it examined and the doctor instructed me to be careful for the next few days until the swelling subsides.”  
  
_C’mon Bridget, get your shit together. People’s lives are depending on you._  
  
Lydia followed Bridget and sat on the bed beside her. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Not really. It pains me greatly that my family thinks I’m dead. The hell they must be going through and I can’t even let them know I’m alive.” _Because of you, they’re probably organising funeral arrangements as we speak._ “I think I now have some idea what it was like for you when your sister was murdered. The pain of not knowing who committed such a brutal crime.”  
  
Lydia clenched her jaw. “It’s not the same thing because you survived, and I can assure you my sister’s murderers will get what’s coming to them.”  
  
“It sounds like you know her killers.”  
  
Lydia drifted away, like she was reliving a past moment. “You have no idea what it’s like, having to embalm and prepare your own sister for burial. How it was left to me to clean and patch her once beautiful face. It was then I promised her I’d make them pay. Every last one of them.”  
  
“You’ve never spoken about your sister’s death before. What was her name?”  
  
“Le-“ Lydia snapped out of her trance at hearing Bridget ask her sister’s name and changed the topic. “Has McMahon left you with any sort of weapon to defend yourself? I mean... what if Krampusz finds out you’re here? Surely he would come for you?”  
  
“No, McMahon seems to think a weapon in the hands of someone who lacks the experience and know-how to use it, will most likely get themselves killed. He also reasons that Krampusz won’t find me because he believes I’m dead. I just need to stay out of sight until he’s caught.”  
  
“And Erica? You mentioned she remembered meeting Krampusz in the carpark recently?”  
  
“No, I didn’t. I said she remembers when Krampusz held her hostage at Pentridge Prison. So how did you know about the carpark?”  
  
“I... er, must have read it online.”  
  
Bridget could feel her anger rise from hearing all the lies. “Impossible, given Erica was only recently able to recall the kidnapping because she was under hypnosis, which also resulted in her remembering having met Krampusz in the carpark two weeks’ ago. Do you want to try again, Lydia? Or would you prefer I call you Cassie?”  
  
Lydia flinched. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Don’t lie to me! I saw a picture of you and Krampusz with Leonie Cartwright on Facebook!” Bridget saw the glint of the knife’s blade which Lydia pulled from her pocket, and instinctively slapped it away with her bandaged hand, sending it flying to the floor. “You’re her half-sister, you fucking psycho!”  
  
Lydia lunged at Bridget, pushing her backwards and pinning her to the bed with the full weight of her body, wrapping both her hands around Bridget’s throat, using the tips of her thumbs to press down hard on her larynx.  
  
“Leonie’s dead because of Franky, and now I’m going to kill you!”  
  
Bridget gasped for air, unable to scream due to her air supply being cut off. She tried in vain to push Lydia off her, but the bandaged splint hindered her efforts. With her last breath, she pulled the scalpel from the bandage, and plunged it into Cassie, before yielding from the lack of oxygen.  
  
McMahon burst through the door, with Franky following at the rear. He pounced upon Cassie, pulling her off Bridget and using all his upper body strength to throw her onto the floor face down, pulling both arms behind her back so he could slap the handcuffs on both her wrists. Feeling her body go limp under him as he lay on top of her, McMahon pulled Cassie’s head back by her hair to discover the knife which Bridget had imbedded in Cassie’s right eye socket, had now pushed further inwards, penetrating her brain. Before he could react, a blood-curdling scream cut straight through him.  
  
_“NOOOOO!”_  
  
McMahon dropped Cassie’s body to the ground, and turned to see a distraught Franky cradling Bridget in her arms, crying hysterically.  
  
“She’s dead!” Franky howled. “Bridget’s dead!”


	10. Davidson Vs Goliath

McMahon scrambled over to Franky on his hands and knees and snatched Bridget’s lifeless body from her, placing Bridget gently on the ground in front of him.

_Crack!_

“You bastard! I shouldn’t have listened to you!”  
  
The solid punch to the jaw brought a few tears to McMahon’s eyes, but he blinked them away and ignored the throbbing pain along with her stinging comments. Interlocking his fingers, he positioned his hands one atop of the other with palms facing down between Bridget’s breasts, and began counting off each press to thirty. He then pulled her chin upwards, pinching her nose and blew two quick, deep breaths into her mouth. As he resumed the count once more, Franky had come to her senses and took over the breathing. Together they worked in perfect sync, swapping over so McMahon didn’t become tired.  
  
“Don’t leave me, Gidget. Don’t you fucking dare!”  
  
“C’mon, Bridge!” McMahon shouted. “What did I say to you previously about dying?”  
  
Bridget coughed and spluttered, taking in huge gasps of air. As McMahon rolled her into the recovery position, Franky switched on her mobile, noticing a message from Erica, but ignored it and dialled ‘000’ for an ambulance.  
  
“We don’t have much time before the police arrive.” McMahon rushed over and checked Cassie for a pulse. “She’s still alive, but her vitals are weak.”  
  
“How could a scalpel to the head not prove fatal?”  
  
“Quite often people survive severe brain injuries, like your father. That said, she’ll probably suffer brain damage.” McMahon searched Cassie’s pockets for her mobile. “Sorry to do this to you Bridget, but I need you to act dead so I can take a photo.”  
  
Franky attempted to snatch the mobile away from him, but was too slow. “Are you fucking serious, McMahon?”  
  
“Krampusz will require proof.”  
  
“McMahon’s right, Franky.” Bridget’s strained voice was barely audible.  
  
McMahon took a couple of extreme close-ups. “Don’t let on to the police or paramedics that we have Cassie’s mobile or they’ll confiscate it.”  
  
Police and paramedics arrived on the scene within minutes, and the paramedics carefully placed a brace around Bridget’s neck, lifting her onto a stretcher. Franky held Bridget’s hand and lightly stroked her face.  
  
“You need to find a new hobby which doesn’t involve you dying on me.”  
  
Bridget managed a weak smile. “Do me a favour and ring Wentworth. Tell Vera I’ve had the date from Hell and I’ll be a bit late for my next shift.”  
  
Despite the tears, Franky couldn’t help but laugh. “Indefinite leave, effective immediately. Gotcha.”  
  
Bridget shifted her focus to McMahon. “You asked me a question before. The answer is, I’m not allowed to die on your shift.”  
  
“You have more lives than a cat, Bridget.”  
  
McMahon spoke with the police outside the front of Standstead House as Franky watched the medics lift Bridget into the back of the ambulance. After several minutes, the police left and McMahon ventured over to Franky, rubbing the red welt on his jaw.  
  
“Sorry about the punch, McMahon.”  
  
“No, you’re not, but that’s okay.”  
  
“What did you tell the police?”  
  
“I’ve briefed them of Cassie’s relationship with Cartwright, along with Krampusz being Tess’ kidnapper.” He noted the look of concern on Franky’s face. “I had to feed them something, given I’m supposed to be dead. Anyway, I assured the police we’ll drop by the station shortly to give detailed statements.”  
  
“But we’re not going, are we?”  
  
“Nope. This is it, Franky. It’s time for you and Erica to meet Krampusz at the finish line.”  
  
“How? Cassie was our only link to catching Krampusz.”  
  
McMahon pulled out Cassie’s mobile. “I’ll bet anything that she’s unintentionally left us a lifeline.”  
  
“Do you think she told Krampusz about you and Bridget?”  
  
“Yes. Cassie wouldn’t dare act without Krampusz’ permission.” McMahon checked Cassie’s phone history. “No calls today, but a couple of messages.”  
  
_Westfall just contacted me. She & McMahon are still alive. I have organised to meet up with her.  
  
Find out what she knows, then eliminate. Check in once completed._  
  
Franky shook her head in disgust. “So she was going to kill Bridget, regardless? Karma’s a bitch for Cassie.”  
  
McMahon attached a photo of Bridget with bruising apparent around her neck and added a message.  
  
_All done. What now?_  
  
Moments later, Krampusz returned the message.  
  
_Excellent. Meet me back at home base, ASAP._  
  
“Where the hell would that be?”  
  
“Probably her workplace.” McMahon opened the phone’s address book. “Most people have their work number programmed into their phone, right?” He found the number under ‘Work’ and pressed call.  
  
_Hello, you have called Green Palm Funerals. Please leave a message and we’ll..._  
  
“Hang up,” Franky shouted. “That’s the clue on the last light bulb!”  
  
“Green Palm? Are you sure?”  
  
“Positive. You don’t suppose that’s where Tess is being held?”  
  
“Only one way to find out.”  
  
“Okay, but first I need to return Erica’s call to let her know we’re on our way.” Franky checked the text. “Shit! Too late! She’s meeting Krampusz at Green Palm Funerals.”  
  
“What time did the message come through?”  
  
“About an hour ago. She’s text through the address.” Franky returned the call, but there was no answer. “She actually thinks she can take on Krampusz and get Tess back? What the fuck was she thinking?”  
  
“That Krampusz tortured and nearly raped her.”  
  
“You think it’s revenge? I can assure you Erica’s incapable, because she’s not that type of person.”  
  
“Everyone is capable, it’s just a matter of whether they can justify it, and right now, she’s been pushed to the edge after recalling her ordeal with Krampusz. The real question is, will Krampusz push her over when she confronts him?”  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Marty looked up at the white building and scratched his head. “How are we going to get inside undetected and find Tess? This joint looks more secure than Fort Knox.”  
  
“I have a hunch Krampusz will purposely make it easy for us to enter the premises and find her. It’s the exit strategy which has me worried.”  
  
“We’re about to enter a building filled with the dearly departed. Let’s hope we don’t get hit by the zombie apocalypse, but just in case, remember to aim for the head.”  
  
“You watch way too many movies, Marty.”  
  
Erica’s suspicions were correct, when they found the front doors unlocked and no one manning the reception. They made their way slowly around the premises, inspecting each room. A staff room appeared to have stairs leading to another level, but the door required a keypass to gain access. Eventually, they stumbled across a large room displaying half a dozen closed coffins. Marty lifted each of the lids.  
  
“Good news, Dracula’s not home. That means we can leave too, right?”  
  
Erica opened the adjoining double doors which had a ramp leading to an underground level. “Not just yet, Lionheart.”  
  
“Ladies first,” Marty said as he followed Erica down the ramp.  
  
Several storage rooms, an office, and a large mortuary with a preparation room, splintered off the long white-walled corridor with a green concrete floor. Erica pointed to the exit at the end of the corridor. “I’ll bet that leads to an underground carpark where they park the hearse to make it easier to transfer the deceased.”  
  
“Remember to aim for the head, Jeffrey.”  
  
“You’re the one with the gun.”  
  
“Yeah, but-“  
  
Erica held her hand up to stop him talking. “Do you hear that?”  
  
“That would be the sound of me shitting myself.”  
  
“No, listen. It sounds like music.”  
  
Marty listened carefully. “Sounds like annoying tunes from kids' shows.”  
  
“Exactly! That must mean Tess is nearby.”  
  
“Or a trap set by Krampusz.”  
  
They followed the music down the corridor until it brought them to a door marked ‘Storage’.  
  
“Step aside, I’ll bash this baby down.” Marty crashed his shoulder hard against the door, but it refused to open. “Fuck that hurts!”  
  
Erica reached up and undid the lock near the top of the door, opening it with ease. “Again, too many movies.”  
  
“Erica!” Tess shouted, before Erica could tell her to be quiet.  
  
Erica lifted the little girl up and gave her a big hug. “Are you okay, honey?”  
  
“Yes, is Franky with you?”  
  
“She’s on her way and will be here soon. Where’s the man who has been looking after you?”  
  
“Krampusz? I don’t like him. He gave me Fruit Loops and I hate Fruit Loops. We played lots of games and I told him about the dragon at my birthday party.”  
  
“Okay, we’re going to play a new game now by sneaking out of here and being really quiet so Krampusz won’t find us. Do you think you can do that?”  
  
Tess nodded. She looked at Marty who was keeping a lookout in the doorway. “Who’s that?”  
  
“That’s my brother, farty Marty.”  
  
“He’s a stinky boy!” Tess giggled.  
  
“Now you know why I call him that.”  
  
A heavy metal door slammed nearby, and the lights switched off, cloaking the place in darkness. “This is the part where Lionheart pretends to be brave. Wait here, and l’ll go and investigate,” Marty said, as he disappeared back up the corridor, returning a few minutes later. “The door back up to Dracula’s bedroom is now locked.”  
  
“What about the stairwell and the exit leading to the carpark?”  
  
“Nope, both locked. We have no way of getting out of here.”  
  
Erica pointed upwards. “How about the window in Tess’ room?”  
  
Marty looked up at the tiny window several feet high off the ground. “I can just see the grass brushing up against the window, but there’s no way we can fit through there.”  
  
“We can’t, but Tess can. At least we can get her to safety.”  
  
Marty spotted a large wooden storage crate in the corner and dragged it across the room, placing it directly under the window. He climbed on top and was just able to reach high enough to push the window outwards.  
  
“Hand me Tess.”  
  
Erica knelt and gave Tess her mobile. “Do you remember when Franky taught you how to call for help?”  
  
Tess nodded. “Ring triple zero and tell them my name is Tess Doyle.”  
  
“Good girl. As soon as you’re on the street, find a place to hide and call the police. Tell them who you are and don’t hang up so they can trace the call and find you there. Don’t talk to anyone else other than the police or Franky, okay?”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
Erica gave Tess a kiss on the cheek, then handed her up to Marty, who hoisted her above his head and on to the narrow aluminium window sill. Tess wiggled her way through the tiny opening to the outside of the building.  
  
“I made it, Erica!”  
  
“Well done, Tess. Now go hide.”  
  
Marty jumped down from the wooden crate. “I feel like I’m stuck in a Lassie movie where the dog escapes and saves the day by bringing back the police.”  
  
“She’ll be okay, won’t she, Marty? Did I make the right decision?”  
  
“Tess will be fine, she’s a smart kid. On a more important note, I can’t believe you told her my childhood nickname.”  
  
“It still is your nickname, and with good reason.” Erica walked past him and looked out the door before carefully stepping quietly into the darkened corridor. “I think it’s clear. We need to get out of here before Krampusz corners us.”  
  
Marty followed her down the corridor. “Let’s see if we can somehow-“  
  
Erica heard a thump behind her. “Marty?” His lack of reply prompted her to backtrack her steps until she tripped over an object.  
  
“Way to go, twinkle toes,” Marty’s strained voice could just be heard.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
The emergency generator kicked in and the power returned to half strength. Erica found Marty sitting on the floor with his back up against the wall. He removed his left hand and blood spurted from the wound in his stomach. “Depends if you think this is a good or a bad thing?”  
  
“You’ve been stabbed!” She kneeled over him and slapped her hand down hard over the wound.  
  
Marty yelled out from the pain. “No shit, Sherlock! Krampusz snuck up from behind me and disappeared as soon as he stuck the knife in.”  
  
“Why didn’t he slit your throat?”  
  
“Must be my lucky day. I’ll ask him next time.”  
  
“He must have maimed you because he sees you as the bigger threat, but purposely didn’t kill you because I would never leave you behind if you’re still alive.”  
  
“Great, so I’m a burden, now.”  
  
Krampusz’ voice came over the PA system. _“There’s only one way out, Bella, and you need to get past me, if you want to save your brother.”_  
  
Marty looked over Erica’s shoulder. “Don’t move, there’s a security camera positioned in the top right-hand corner behind you,” he whispered as he used her to block himself from the camera’s view and carefully retrieved the gun from his pocket, shoving it into Erica’s hand. “Find this prick, finish the game, and come back and rescue your baby brother like you’ve always done since we were kids.”  
  
“I can’t leave you here!”  
  
“Yeah, you can.”  
  
“No, I can’t!” The fear was evident in her voice. “And there’s no way I can confront Krampusz on my own!”  
  
“I’m cold, Jeffrey and this wound hurts like hell.” Marty coughed, causing him to cry out in pain, a stern reminder that he would soon be added to Krampusz’ tally if she did nothing.  
  
Erica replaced her hand with his, and concealed the gun down the front of her jeans.”

Marty grimaced. “Is this a good time to tell you I require a change of jocks?”  
  
Erica offered him a friendly smile. “I promise I’ll buy you a seven pack once this is all over, that way you’ll have one for each day of the week.”  
  
“That’s five more than I need.” Marty flinched again.  
  
“I need to hide you first.” She saw a broom leaning against a nearby wall and used it to push the CCTV upwards, so it could only film the ceiling.  
  
“I’m impressed. Where did you learn that trick?”  
  
“Prison.” Erica helped Marty to his feet and placed his arm around her shoulder to support him, half dragging him down the corridor into the mortuary. The large, sterile room had a wall of stainless steel refrigerated drawers used to store the recently deceased awaiting burial. She used her free hand to slide out a lower drawer. “My turn for a crazy idea. Do you think you can lift yourself up into this drawer?”  
  
“You want me to play dead?”  
  
“Do you have a better idea?”  
  
“Why not? I’ve been dead to our father for the last fifteen years, this should be a breeze.”  
  
“You two need to kiss and make up.”  
  
Marty whimpered again in pain as he struggled to lift himself onto the flat metal surface, removing his shoes and socks. “If I survive this, I’ll think about it - assuming I don’t freeze my nuts off in here.”  
  
“I’ll switch the refrigeration off before I leave. Lie down,” Erica ordered as she placed a white cotton sheet over his body, and attached a small tag to his toe.  
  
Marty pulled the sheet back. “Is this a childhood fantasy fulfilled? To dump your annoying brother in a drawer with a toe tag attached?”  
  
“No, my plans for revenge were much worse.”  
  
“Hey, Jeffrey... be careful, okay?”  
  
“Do I detect a hint of concern?”  
  
“Nah, you’re the only family member who actually likes me and besides, Franky will kill me if anything happens to you.”  
  
Erica pushed the drawer back in, but left it open an inch so Marty could breathe. She then opened all the other drawers slightly to match, in case Krampusz entered the room. As she passed a desk on the way out, she spotted a computer printer loaded with white paper, and allowed herself a wicked smile.

“Welcome to the game, Krampusz.”  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Tess ran over the lawn, past the palm tree and out the wrought iron double gates to the main road.  
  
“Tess!”  
  
The little girl squealed with excitement at the familiar voice. “Franky!”  
  
“Thank God you’re okay!” Franky scooped her up in her arms, hugging her like she hadn’t seen her in years. “Where’s Erica?”  
  
“She’s too big to fit through the window with me.”  
  
“Is Marty still with her?”  
  
“Yes, but Krampusz wants to hurt her, Franky.”  
  
“I won’t let him.” Franky handed Tess to McMahon. “Put her in the car and call the police!”  
  
Franky bolted up the driveway towards the front door of Green Palm Funerals before McMahon could object.  
  
“Shit, Franky,” McMahon shouted after her. “I can’t leave the kid alone in the car!” McMahon looked down at the little girl who was now holding his hand. “Did your sister just give me a direct order?”  
  
“Yes, and daddy says swearing is bad.”  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Erica opened the door to the office and saw a woman wearing a blue pinstriped jacket, hunched over her desk. “Hello?” The woman continued to ignore her, so Erica walked over and hesitantly put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, shaking it gently. “Excuse me?”  
  
The woman’s head flopped back like rubber, and Erica noticed a thin ring of fresh bruising around the neck. She stepped back and clamped both hands over her mouth to stifle her own scream, afraid of giving away her location to Krampusz.  
  
Haley Jovanka was dead, yet another victim added to Krampusz’ Hit List. Erica retrieved a digital dictaphone from the desk and pressed ‘play’. It was Haley’s final piece - an interview between her and Krampusz detailing the deaths of all his victims. She never liked the ruthless journalist, whom she considered arrogant and a constant thorn in her side at Wentworth, but even she conceded that Haley didn’t deserve such a brutal death.  
  
“You finally got your Walkley Award,” Erica said, as she placed the dictaphone back on the desk. “If only you had listened to McMahon, you would be alive to receive the glory.”  
  
A door slammed nearby, reminding Erica that her own death was forthcoming should she stay in the room any longer, for Krampusz would soon be upon her and she needed a safe place to hide.  
  
Minutes later, Krampusz entered the office where Erica had just been. He noted Haley Jovanka still slumped forward in her chair - just the way he had left her there earlier - and reasoned that if Erica had been in the office, then she would have taken the dictaphone to use as evidence.  
  
“You’re running out of places to hide, Bella.” Krampusz did a quick check of the small adjoining bathroom. “I’ve found your brother in the corridor and have fixed his pain. Come out, then we’ll wait together for Franky to arrive, so I can slowly torture you in front of her.”  
  
He re-entered the office and opened a large wooden cupboard with double doors, surprised at the unexpected body which slumped forward, sending them both crashing to the ground. Krampusz struggled to push the dead weight off him, realising too late of his amateur mistake.  
  
Haley swivelled around and rose from her chair. Only it wasn’t Haley, but Erica who now wore Haley’s blue pinstriped jacket and pointing a gun directly at him. Krampusz lunged for her as she fired off a single shot at him; the bullet piercing through his left hand.  
  
Krampusz bent over, cradling his bloodied hand close to his chest. “Bitch!”  
  
The recoil of the gun knocked Erica back into the chair, but she pulled herself together and re-aimed once more. “Put your gun on the floor and kick it towards me.”  
  
Krampusz reluctantly obeyed her. “Congratulations on making it to the finish line, but the rules state both you and Franky must be present. Therefore, you lose, and so does Tess.”  
  
“Tess is off the premises and my brother’s alive. As for Franky, she’ll be here shortly with the police. Get on your knees, remove your mask and put your hands behind your head.”  
  
Krampusz removed the mask and sank to his knees. “Is this how you remember me from the wardens’ tower in D Division?”  
  
Hearing his Hungarian accent and seeing his true face, brought the memories of Pentridge flooding back. Erica breathed in deeply through her nose and out her mouth to regain control of herself. “The true face of the Devil lies beneath the mask.”  
  
“You’re still afraid of me, aren’t you?”  
  
“My hatred towards you far outweighs my fear.”  
  
“I’ve misjudged you, Bella. That was pure ingenuity disguising yourself as Jovanka’s body.”  
  
“Why did you kill Haley?”  
  
“Isn’t it obvious? You flouted the rules and brought her into the game, resulting in her unnecessary death. All I did was entice Haley with the opportunity to interview me and she risked her life to get the story of a lifetime.”  
  
“What about Franky’s mother?”  
  
“Consider it a bonus and from what I understand, no big loss.”  
  
“You’re not adding anymore to that list. It stops here and now.”  
  
“There’s two names left on The Hit List and only one way to stop me. Do you have what it takes to end someone else’s life? How deep is your hatred towards me?”  
  
“I’m willing to find out, are you?” Erica threw a piece of folded paper on the floor in front of Krampusz. “Pick it up.”  
  
Krampusz laughed as he scooped up the fortune teller.  
  
“Let’s play a little game, shall we?” Erica waved the gun at him. “Pick a colour, or I’ll pick it for you.”  
  
“Okay, Bella, I’ll play along. I choose red.”  
  
“That’s the third time you’ve chosen that colour.”  
  
“Red is the same colour as your soon-to-be spilled blood. _R - E - D_.”  
  
“A number?”  
  
“One, because there can only be one winner - me. _One._”  
  
“Time to pick your fortune.”  
  
“Six, because that’s how many people I’ve eliminated with my own bare hands. Not including Westfall and Grigoris as they were disposed of by other means.”  
  
“Wrong, Krampusz. McMahon and Bridget survived the blast, and Franky’s father is still alive thanks to some false news reports by Haley.”  
  
Krampusz frowned at the possibility of any carelessness. “Your information is out of date on at least one count. Cassie strangled Westfall on my orders and I have the photographic proof. I already know about McMahon’s escape, but I will get Cassie to check on Alan.”  
  
“You’re lying about Bridget!”  
  
“You really don’t know, do you? Let me prove it to you. I’m just reaching into my pocket for my mobile to show you.” Krampusz opened the file and held it up for her to see.  
  
Erica looked at the photo in disbelief, finding it near impossible not to react to the image which showed Bridget’s fate. She felt a tightness within her chest, leaving her short for breath.

_Breathe, damn it! Don't let him see how vulnerable he makes you feel. _“Then if you believe you are correct, look under the number six - or are you afraid at what your fortune will be?”  
  
Krampusz hesitated before slowly opening the flap to reveal his fortune.  
  
Erica placed the tip of the gun against his forehead. “Read it!”  
  
“It says... ‘Death awaits those who come ill-prepared to the Green Palm’.” He opened the remaining flaps to reveal all eight fortunes exactly the same.  
  
Erica’s trembling finger rested lightly on the trigger. “Outplayed by your own clue. Thanks for the advice.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter anymore, because you can’t win.” He pressed his forehead hard up against the tip of the gun. “Kill me!”  
  
“Don’t do it!” Franky yelled from behind her. “It’s the only way he can still win the game!”  
  
Erica teared up at hearing Franky’s voice. “It’s my fault this has happened. If only I had the courage to go to the police, I would have remembered this piece of shit!”  
  
“Don’t you dare say that! I won’t let you blame yourself!”  
  
“It’s true! This monster has been responsible for so much pain! Cassie murdered Bridget on his command, and if I end his miserable existence, then he won’t be able to hurt any of us, anymore!”  
  
“We faked Bridget’s death to fool Krampusz. If you squeeze the trigger, you’ll be fucking up the rest of your life!”  
  
“Then it’s a small price to pay! This bastard would have raped me had Cartwright not intervened.”  
  
McMahon entered the room with his gun drawn. “Erica, it’s Lachlan. Put down the gun. Trust me, you don’t want to go down that path.”  
  
“Don’t listen to him, Bella,” Krampusz goaded her. “Find out what it’s like to play God; to feel the power course through you as you take someone else’s life. Only then can you truly understand what it’s like to be me.”  
  
“That’s utter bullshit!” Franky shouted. “I know what it’s like to kill. That final image of Meg Jackson dying in my arms, knowing that I was responsible... it will never leave me!”  
  
“But that was an accident! You didn’t have a choice!”  
  
“Accident or not, it doesn’t make any difference because I can never undo what l’ve done. You have a choice - don’t pick the wrong fate.”  
  
Franky’s words prompted Erica to lower the gun a couple of inches.  
  
“Keep talking to her, Franky,” McMahon prompted her.  
  
“Every single day I wish I could take back what I did, but I can’t and I have to live with that.” Franky’s voice quivered as she recalled the memory. “It’s left me fractured and that type of pain can’t be erased. I don’t want Krampusz to take a piece of you with him, like Meg did with me.”  
  
Erica lowered the gun to her side.  
  
Krampusz laughed at her. “I knew you wouldn’t kill me, Bella. Maybe you should let Franky do the honours, given she already has blood on her hands.”  
  
“Not this time.” Erica raised the gun once more between his eyes. “It’s time for you to join Cartwright in Hell.”  
  
She then squeezed the trigger.


	11. Sins of Her Past

_Click - Click - Click - Click - Click!_

Krampusz’ heart pounded in his chest like he had just completed a marathon. Beads of sweat rolled off his forehead and into his eyes, which showed genuine fear. If there had been bullets in the gun, he would be dead right now, and his urine-soaked pants proved he didn’t want to die.

“Who’s afraid, now?” Erica asked Krampusz, as she pulled a full clip from her pocket, throwing it on the ground before him.

He looked down at the clip with total disbelief, as the realisation dawn upon him that she knew all along there was only one bullet in the gun. She had bluffed and outplayed him at his own game, and he had lost.

“Franky’s right, you’re not worth it.” Erica swung the butt of the gun hard across his face, breaking his nose, sending droplets of blood across the room.

McMahon came from behind and purposely slammed Krampusz’ face down hard into the concrete floor, aggravating the broken nose further. “That’s for trying to kill me, fuckwit!” He frisked Krampusz, discovering the garrote in a back pocket, and used it to tie Krampusz’ wrists together.

Franky took the gun away from Erica, and slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to kill him.”

“For a moment there, I nearly did, especially when Krampusz showed me the photo of Bridget. It was so tempting to reload that gun clip and empty it into him.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“It was something you said to me ages ago, about being stuck in the slot with nothing but your own mind to keep you company. That’s all Krampusz has now - his own mind, and the fact he won’t have control over anyone, anymore. It’s a combination which will drive him crazy as he spends the rest of his life slowly rotting away in prison, and with a bit of luck, maybe he’ll have Dimi Grigoris’ killers in his unit.”

They followed the police out onto the street and watched as Ambrus - the man formerly known to them as Krampusz - was pushed into the back of a police vehicle.

Moments later, Marty was wheeled out on a stretcher. Erica rushed over to the paramedics. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Hey, Jeffrey, I heard you popped the bad guy.” Marty broke out into a song, as the paramedics loaded him into the back of an ambulance. _Did you ever know that you’re my hero? And everything I would like to be…_

“Your brother’s just been shot, and yet he still manages to belt out a Bette Midler tune in your honour,” Franky shook her head. “I swear, your family’s crazier than mine.”

“Love me, love my crazy family,” Erica said as she lifted Tess up onto her hip. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“Just need to get rid of this first.”

Franky walked over to the nearest police officer and handed over the Glock. Something caught her attention which made her freeze on the spot. Did Erica just ask her what’s wrong? She wasn’t sure as it sounded incoherent to her own ears, with everyone around her appear to become a blur, except McMahon who came into clear focus. He was deep in conversation with his ex-colleagues when he looked up and met her fearful gaze; the frown that swept upon his face when he made eye contact, did nothing to soothe her nerves. It may have lasted only mere seconds, yet to Franky it was enough to make her realise that finally, her time was up.

It was time to pay for the sins of her past.

**** **** ****

Franky rested on the lounge suite, nursing a glass of red. She watched Erica scoop up the sleeping Gomez and Morticia from the day basket and placed them into their cage for the night. “Still not convinced those jokers like me.” 

Erica laughed. “They should be safe for you to pat now, given Tess spent the last two hours playing with them. I think she’s tired them out!”

“When it comes to energy, no one can outlast a five-year-old, not even ferrets.”

“How was Tess when you put her to bed?”

“She finally fell asleep once I plugged in the night light and gave her plenty of reassurance that no one was going to take her away again.”

“She’s a very brave little girl - kind of reminds me of someone else I know.” Erica sat down and leaned in to kiss Franky.

Franky placed the glass down on the table and stood up quickly, making it clear she didn’t want to be touched. “Yeah, look... I need to ask you a favour.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to look after Tess for me, but it could be for a long time.”

“What? Why?”

“We both know McMahon heard my confession, and he’s obligated to report me. I can’t send Tess back to dad, as he can no longer look after himself, and I need to know she’ll be okay. My biggest fear is Tess will spend her childhood in foster care, feeling unloved like I did.”

“That won’t happen because I will cherish Tess like she’s my own daughter.” Erica lifted herself up from the lounge suite, her mind now evaluating their options. “And you’re not going back to Wentworth because I will defend you and we will win this case.”

“You know you can’t, it will be a conflict of interest.”

“Then I’ll ask my father to use his contacts to assemble the best team of lawyers in Australia.”

“You hate asking your father for anything.”

“This is different, we’ll discredit McMahon’s testimony and-”

“Erica, listen to me! You’re not thinking straight. Using your father isn’t an option, and McMahon doesn’t deserve to have his reputation tarnished. Not after all he’s done for us. The only person who has done wrong, is me.”

“But I’m scared of losing you. How can I convince you to fight?”

“What for? I’ve already lost. Perhaps it’s best you move on with your life and find happiness with someone else.”

“You are my life! How can I possibly move on and leave you behind? There’s no happiness in sad endings, Franky! If you leave, you’re not just destroying your life, but mine and Tess’ lives, too.”

“That’s one hell of a guilt trip you’re laying on me.”

“Yet you seem to think what you’re doing to me is okay? I’m trying to build a better life with the one I love.”

“Maybe I’m not that person. Waiting for me is a bad idea and I have no right to expect you to put your life on hold for me.”

“I’ll never stop loving you, Franky, and there’s nothing you can say which will ever change my mind. Promise me you’ll never give up on us!”

The sadness in Erica’s eyes tugged at Franky’s heart, and she could no longer look at her. “I can’t promise you that! Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?” She burst into tears and ran from the room.

Erica picked up Franky’s glass from the table and finished its contents, contemplating her next move. Moments later, she heard the distinct sound of running water, and decided she would never give up on her one true love, her soul mate, but if this was going to be their last night together, then it would have to last a lifetime.

Franky stood in the shower with her eyes closed, relishing the stream of hot water cascading over her torso. Erica slid back the shower screen.

“Is there room for one more?”

Franky looked her up and down. _I could never tire of that body held against mine_. “I think I could squeeze you in.”

Erica stepped into the shower and took the soap off her, lathering it until her hands were thickly coated. “Turn around and face the wall.” Franky placed her hands against the wall to prevent herself from falling. “It’s my turn to frisk you.”

With the bar of soap in one hand, Erica lathered up her own breasts, stomach, and pussy, before thoroughly lathering Franky’s back and arse. She leant against Franky, rubbing her breasts into Franky’s back, creating more suds. Erica reached around, lathering Franky’s shoulders and under each breast, as she rubbed her pussy against Franky’s arse.

Franky swallowed hard. “You’ve missed a spot.”

“I can assure you I’m leaving the best until last.” Erica turned Franky around to face her, pulling her under the shower head to rinse the soap off. She threw her arms around Franky’s neck and kissed her aggressively, using her tongue to glide over Franky’s chin to her neck, where she continued to kiss and nip at her throat. She gently flicked her thumb over Franky’s clit, paying special attention to the nub, and when Franky started whimpering, Erica knew she was now ready for her.

“I need you to fuck me, now,” Franky pleaded.

Erica parted the folds and inserted two fingers inside. “You’re soaked, and I’m not referring to the water.” She pumped her fingers in and out of Franky, slowly at first, until Franky begged her to pick up the pace.

Franky wrapped her right leg around Erica’s hip, gripping her arse. Leaning back against the tiled wall for support, she felt each thrust of Erica’s fingers as she curled them deep inside her. “Fuck, you’re good at this!” She let out an elongated moan as Erica pulled out, allowing the juices to dribble down her inner thighs. Erica knelt between her legs, capturing Franky’s juices within her own mouth, before it completely dissipated from the water. Franky moaned once more, sliding down the wall and resting her arse on the ground, where Erica joined her moments later.

“You need to do what’s right, but I want to be there when you hand yourself in. I can’t bear the thought of you being alone.”

Franky nodded, trying to catch her breath. “Fair enough.”

Erica snuggled into Franky and closed her eyes. “Tess and I will be here waiting when you return - no matter how long it takes. Know that I’ll love her and she’ll grow up knowing how lucky she is to have you as her sister. I will never let her forget you. That’s my promise, to you.”

The water washed away Franky’s tears, and she wrapped her arm around Erica’s shoulder and kissed her forehead. “And I promise I’ll never leave you and Tess.” Together, they sat upon the tiled floor in complete silence, relaxed by the massage the hot water provided as it splashed against their bodies.

“Are you shitting me?” Franky growled. “Geez, you’re either a sick pervert or a fucking stalker!”

Erica opened her eyes. “I’m a what?”

“No, not you... _him_.”

Erica followed Franky’s pointed finger to see a drenched Gomez sitting up on his hind legs in the opposite corner of the shower, studying them both intently. “Maybe he’s watching us for some handy tips to seduce Morticia?”

“I thought you put him back in the night cage?”

“I did. Perhaps we should rename him Houdini?”

“More like Tom, as in peeping.”

“To be honest, I think he likes you.”

“Yeah? Explain that to my fingers.”

“Love bites. It appears I have some serious competition, here.” Erica placed one of Franky’s fingers in her mouth and bit down on it.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Reclaiming what’s rightfully mine.”

“You’re making a habit out of biting me. Keep that up, and I’ll be putting you in a cage.”

Several hours later, the moonlight streamed through the open bedroom windows and shone upon Erica’s face. Franky took a moment to admire her sleeping beauty, and with tears rolling down her face, she leant over and kissed Erica lightly on her lips for the last time.

“I’m sorry, beautiful, but I have to make this journey without you. Please forgive me. I love you.”

She slipped quietly into Tess’ room and sat on the edge of the bed. Tess stirred at the sudden movement and woke up. “Franky?”

“Hey kiddo, you should be sound asleep.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m crying because I’m so relieved that you’re safe. Listen, I want you to remember that no matter where you go, or whatever you do in life, there is no one who loves you more than I do.”

The little girl nodded. “Are you going away?”

“For a while, but I’ll be back, I promise.”

Tess threw her arms around Franky. “I don’t want you to go!”

“I don’t want to go either, but I have to. Can you do something for me? I need you to look after Erica until I get back. Think you can do that for me?”

“Okay, but only if you read me a bedtime story.”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Any book you want.”

“Harry Potter!”

“But it’s too big to finish tonight.”

“That’s okay. You can finish it when you come home again.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Okay, scoot over, so I can get under the quilt, too.” Franky looked down at the battered copy of _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_, which Tess had just handed her. “I used to read this to Boomer,” she smiled at the memory of spending many a night in Wentworth, reading to Boomer to help her sleep.

“What’s a boomer?” Tess asked innocently.

“Boomer is a girl and is my best mate in the entire world. We shared a... er... huge castle together for a few years.”

“Is Boomer a princess?”

Franky laughed at the vision which came to mind. “Yeah, but don’t tell her I said that, okay?”

“Okay. Did you and Boomer go on adventures?”

“Sure did. We were always getting thrown in the slot... er... I mean... sent to the dungeon for fighting... er... dragons!”

“Was the dragon scary? Was it a boy or a girl? What was its name?”

“Its name was...” Franky pondered for a moment, before replying with a menacing snarl, “Ferguson! And she was the biggest, baddest, meanest son of a... er... well, she was just plain nasty and would terrorise all the villagers.”

“Did you get Ferguson in the end?”

“Yeah, kiddo. Me and Booms totally slayed and buried that freakish dragon, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end.”

Tess rolled her eyes. “That story is so dumb! I bet Princess Boomer isn’t even real!”

“I swear she’s real!” Franky laughed. “Let’s make a start on this book, okay?” She turned to the first page. _“Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.”_

“I don’t like the Dursleys. They are always mean to Harry. Daddy loves us both, doesn’t he, Franky?”

Franky smiled. “Yes, he does, kiddo. Very much.”

“When do I get my letter to Hogwarts?”

“In six years’ time, if you behave yourself. Unlike me, I’m still waiting for mine.”

“You’re too old, silly!”

“Am not!”

“Are too! And you missed out because you’re a muggle!”

Franky could only laugh, realising she had no comeback. “Do you want to hear the rest of this story, or not?”

Tess nodded with enthusiasm, but by the time Franky had started page two, she was fast asleep. She gently tucked the sleeping girl into her bed and kissed her goodnight.

Franky placed her keys and mobile on the kitchen bench, taking only one personal effect with her - a small envelope with a dozen photos of herself, Erica, Alan and Tess. It had taken Franky almost two hours sifting through the many photo albums they had complied over the last six months, knowing it was one of a handful of things which wouldn’t be confiscated from her upon arrival at Wentworth. Taking one last glance around their home, she smiled briefly at all the past memories they shared in such a short amount of time, and silently mourned for a future which would never be created.

**** **** ****

The sun had barely risen when Franky trudged up the pathway to the single story weatherboard house and knocked on the door. McMahon answered wearing an old green and white striped Shamrock Rovers rugby jumper and a pair of black tracksuit pants, looking like he’d barely slept.

“Franky? Isn’t it a bit early for a social call?”

McMahon’s casual appearance temporarily took Franky aback. “May I come in?”

He opened the door wide and gestured for her to come inside.

“Just want to say thank you for all you’ve done for me and Erica, and for saving Bridget’s life.”

“How is Bridget?”

“She’ll be okay. The doctors want to keep her in hospital for observation for a couple of days. What will happen to Krampusz and Cassie?”

“Thanks to Haley, her dictaphone contains an interview from Krampusz confessing all the deaths in intricate detail. With our testimonies, Krampusz and Cassie will never see the outside of a prison ever again.”

“Why would Krampusz agree to the interview that ultimately proved to be his downfall?”

“His arrogance was his downfall,” McMahon corrected her. “Krampusz believed no one could catch him and therefore he could destroy the evidence later.”

“Including us, had Krampusz won the game.”

“Yeah, including us. Look, Franky, I’m sure you didn’t come here for the latest updates. What’s really on your mind?”

“I need to ask a couple of favours, before I say goodbye.”

“You and Erica going somewhere?”

“No, just me. I’m hoping you’ll accompany me to the police station while I hand myself in over the death of Meg Jackson. Hopefully, I’ll get a decent judge, do my time, and walk out a free woman.”

“And the second favour?” He scratched the stubble on his chin.

“Please keep a lookout for Erica and Tess. I’ve told Erica to move on and not waste her life waiting for me, but she’s being stubborn and refuses to play ball.” Franky walked towards the door. “C’mon, let’s get this over with before I lose my nerve.”

“Hang on a moment, Franky.” He placed his hand firmly upon her shoulder to prevent her from leaving. “When I was chasing your tail for the Stapylton murder, I made it my business to know everything about you, including re-investigating Jackson’s murder, given your involvement in the riot at Wentworth. The evidence was conclusive - Jacqueline Holt killed Meg Jackson.”

“No, I killed her. It was an accident, but I killed her. You heard my confession.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“But you were there. I know you heard me.”

“Heard what? Like I said, Holt killed Jackson. As far as I’m concerned, the case is closed.”

“And what about Krampusz? He heard my confession, too.”

“You really believe anyone will accept the testimony of a lunatic over an ex-cop?”

“I... I don’t understand...”

McMahon sighed heavily. “Franky, let it go. You’ve paid your dues to society and going back to Wentworth would be of no benefit to anyone.”

“But I stole a person’s life and therefore accept my punishment. It’s the only way I’ll ever be a better person.”

“Really? Because it sounds to me that you want to clear your own selfish conscience, rather than be a better person. To hell with Erica, Bridget and anyone else who has ever taken a chance or put their faith and trust in you.”

“Now hang on, that’s not what I said...”

“But it’s what you meant, isn’t it?”

“No! I would never intentionally hurt the ones I love.”

“What about Tess? You’re doing to her what your father did to you all those years ago.”

“That’s complete bullshit! My father ran away. Can’t you see I’m doing this so that one day I can lead an honest life? To set a good example for Tess?”

“How noble of you. Pity it won’t matter to Tess when she grows up without you, but least you’ll have your loved ones to console you in Wentworth.”

“What that’s supposed to mean?”

“Accessory after the fact. The judge may not take too kindly towards Erica and Bridget knowing you killed someone. I’m surprised you and Erica didn’t think about that given your fancy law degrees.”

The possibility sent Franky into a mild panic. “They had nothing to do with it.”

“You’d better hope the judge is as understanding as me.”

“I... you don’t understand...”

“What it’s like to kill someone? Or to walk away from those I love for fear that l’d hurt them more if I stayed? Cause you’d be wrong on both counts. So, you have two choices. You can either help young people to stay out of prison, or you can spend the next fifteen years of your life rotting in one yourself. I guess you need to weigh up where you can do the most good. But if you think by coming here, hoping l’ll arrest you and take you in and therefore save you the trouble of making that decision yourself, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

Franky teared up. “Why are you being such a bastard?”

“Because I know you’re smarter than this. Don’t throw your life away, Franky, or you’ll end up like me. Make every moment count. Go home to Erica and tell her you love her and be the big sister and mother figure to Tess.”

**** **** ****

Erica stretched and rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty. “Franky?” But she knew Franky wasn’t in the apartment before she even called out her name. The love they made the previous night had felt different; she went in hard on Franky, devouring every part of her body, yet Franky had returned the favour with nothing but kindness and gentle love. Now though, she realised it was Franky’s way of savouring their final time together. It was then she noticed the note resting on the bedside table:

_My darling Erica,_

_I know I agreed you could accompany me when I hand myself in, but goodbyes are always messy and we both know it’s easier if McMahon takes me in._

_Please understand you are the best thing to happen to me, and I’ll keep my promise and never leave you and Tess, and you’ll both remain forever in my heart._

_Maybe one day fate will be kind, and we can be together once more._

_With all my love always,_

_Franky_

_xxx_

The bedroom door creaked open ever so slightly, and Erica could see Tess peaking back at her. “Come here, Tess,” Erica sniffed, as she wiped away the tears, and quickly slipped the letter under her pillow.

Tess jumped on the bed and wrapped her arms around Erica’s neck and shoulders. “Don’t be sad, Erica. I’ll look after you until Franky gets back.”

**** **** ****

Franky arrived home a half hour later to find Erica and Tess still in bed, drawing and colouring in. “Franky!” Tess shouted excitedly as she jumped off the bed and dived into Franky’s open arms. “I knew you’d come back!”

Franky hugged the little girl like it was the first time she had seen her in years, despite it being only a few hours’ beforehand. “Can’t keep me away, kiddo. Did you miss me?”

“Yes, and now you’re back we can finish reading Harry Potter!”

“You bet! Hey listen, can you give me a few minutes alone with Erica?”

Tess whispered loudly in Franky’s ear: “Erica’s gonna get mad at you, then you’ll both kiss?”

“That’s the plan,” Franky whispered back, as she set Tess down gently.

“Ew, yuk!” Tess giggled, and ran from the room.

Franky closed the bedroom door and barely had time to turn around before Erica came out of nowhere and punched her hard in the shoulder.

“You-are-such-a-jerk!”

Franky put her hands up in defeat. “I totally deserved that.”

“You deserve much more! You said I could go with you so you wouldn't be alone!” Erica cried out as she hit Franky again. “Why did you take that from me?”

“I know, baby, and I’m so sorry.” She held Erica in her arms, comforting her for some time until she stopped sobbing.

“Does this mean you’re not handing yourself in?”

“Yes. It’s a long story, but essentially, McMahon knocked some sense into me. I am truly sorry. Am I forgiven?”

“Give me one good reason.”

“Okay, hold out your hand.” Franky flashed that mischievous grin as she rooted around in her jean pockets, dumping a handful of rubber spiders, cockroaches and small snakes into Erica’s outstretched hand. “That’s for Tess. This... is for you.” Erica dropped the toy insects on the floor when she spotted the ring which Franky now held between her own thumb and index finger. “I was going to go all out and do the whole romantic thingy, but I couldn't wait any longer. Will you marry me?”

Erica gasped as she looked at the ring. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want a long engagement. I made a promise to your mother and I intend to keep it, so you have six months to get your shit together and plan a wedding which doesn’t involve me wearing a dress. What do you say? Do you reckon you could tolerate me forever?”

Erica held out her shaking hand. “Well, when you put it like that...” Tears flowed once more, but this time they were tears of joy. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Franky slipped the plastic ring onto Erica’s slim finger, but it only went as far as the second knuckle. “Okay, here’s the thing... I was in the supermarket earlier, and you know those gumball machines where you put a dollar in the slot, turn the handle, and you always get a kid’s size ring, even though it’s the creepy crawlies that you really want? Well, I forked out forty bucks and got nothing but creepy crawlies until finally I hit the jackpot and got a ring. I figured this will have to suffice until we have time to go shopping for the real deal.”

Erica held up her hand to inspect the ring and laughed. “I love it!”

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“That’s a big yes, and Tess is right - we are so gonna kiss.”

“Smart kid, but then she’s blessed with the good side of the Doyle genes.” Their kiss became heated and Franky had to break free when Erica slipped her hand under her top. “Hate to be the party pooper here, but what happens now? I mean Tess can’t live with my father, given he requires constant care.”

“I think the answer is obvious, don’t you?” Erica walked over to the bed and scooped up the two pictures Tess had drawn earlier and handed them to Franky. Both pictures showed brightly coloured hand-drawn images of Franky, Erica and Tess, smiling and holding hands. “Tess needs a safe home environment with people who will always love her.”

“Wait, are you saying... are you sure about this? Looking after a kidlet will be a huge responsibility.”

“You two are now a packaged deal, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Franky flashed the widest grin she could muster. “This means we’ll have to install that lock on the bedroom door much earlier than anticipated and we may have to consider sound-proofing the room, too.”

Erica gave a half-hearted laugh. “The sacrifices I make for you!”

“I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Have I told you today how much I love you?”

“No, you haven’t.”

Franky held Erica in her arms. “I love you, Jeffrey.”

“I love you too, my Dragon Slayer.”

Franky opened the bedroom door. “Tess, come in here, please.” The little girl entered the bedroom and Franky hoisted her up onto her hip. “How would you feel about living with Erica and me, permanently?”

“For real?”

Tess looked over at Erica for reassurance. “For real, honey.”

“Can daddy come too?”

“Daddy needs full-time care, Tess, but we can visit him whenever you want, and maybe when he’s better, he can come home for weekend visits. How’s that sound?” Franky offered.

Tess’ face lit up along with that infamous Doyle smile. “Okay, but I want a ferret like Aunty Bridget has!”

Franky looked at Erica in absolute horror, and it took all her willpower not to shout out _No fucking way!_ Instead, she mouthed silently to Erica: “I’m gonna kill Aunty Bridget the next time I see her!”

Erica came to the rescue. “I’m not sure we’re allowed to keep ferrets in the building, honey, but what about a cat? Maybe a big ginger one?”

“Yes! We’ll call him Crookshanks!” Tess shouted with glee.

“Disaster averted!” Franky laughed, as she pulled Erica in with her free hand for a group hug. It doesn’t get any better than this, she thought to herself. At last, after years of roaming out in the wilderness, Franky finally had a family to call her own.


	12. Stand by Me

** _SIX MONTHS LATER..._ **

It was midmorning and McMahon was feeling the ill-effects from the previous night’s bender. “I should never have let that piece of shit talk us into having a few drinks last night, Franky.”

McMahon surveyed the countless empty bottles, tinnies, balloons, streamers and mess strewn all over the furniture and lounge room floor, and thought back to Marty’s persistent begging and pleading. _“It’s your last night of freedom before you’re married and stuck with my sister for the rest of your life, Franky! THE REST OF YOUR LIFE! C’mon, I bet Erica and Bridge are hitting the turps at Bridget’s place. Just a few drinks between the three of us, and with McMahon here to dampen things, what could possibly go wrong?_” Twelve hours’ later and Erica and Franky’s place now resembled the aftermath of an out of control week-long rave.

Franky had been the least of McMahon’s problems - although he had to lock the front door deadlock to prevent her from escaping to Bridget’s place, when she confessed that Erica was purposely sending naked pictures of herself to Franky’s phone. He reprimanded Franky for behaving like a dog in heat and if she didn’t behave, he would confiscate her mobile and lock her in her room. Marty was the more challenging of the two. Mahon vaguely recalled the police knocking on the door at 3am after receiving several complaints from neighbours about a naked guy with blonde dreadlocks dancing on the balcony, and it was only when they recognised McMahon that they didn’t follow through with the arrest. Now though, McMahon wished he had let them cart Marty’s naked butt off to the police station.

“I swear l’ll make him lick it all up with his tongue before you get back from your honeymoon, even if I have to hold him at gunpoint,” McMahon shouted loud enough for Franky to hear.

“Never mind that, I can’t find my jacket!” Franky emerged from the bedroom in a panic, looking worse for wear. “It was hanging off the doorknob in Tess’ room.”

McMahon bent down, pushed aside a half-eaten pizza, and picked up a discarded jacket off the floor and sniffed it. “Phew! This wouldn’t be it by any chance?” They both looked at one another as the murky events of the previous night became a little clearer. “I seem to recall Marty throwing up on something last night...”

“What am I gonna do? I need that for the wedding ceremony!”

“Surely Erica has one which would fit?”

“Yeah, you’re holding it.”

“Then call Bridget and see if she has a spare jacket you could borrow.”

“Right, good idea.” Franky dialled Bridget’s number and was waiting for the call to connect when something above her caught her eye.

_“Hello?”_ Bridget answered.

“How the fuck did that get up there?” Franky questioned out loud.

_“Franky? What’s going on?”_

McMahon looked up and whistled in admiration. “One guess.”

“That little arsewipe!” Franky chuckled.

_“Did you just call me an arsewipe, Franky?”_

Franky was oblivious to Bridget’s questions, as she and McMahon continued to look up at the ceiling in awe. Handcuffed to the electrical cord and straddling the light fixture between its legs, was a blow-up doll wearing a short blonde wig and dressed in a white singlet and underwear. The high ceiling would have presented a challenge, and they both wondered how Marty had achieved such a feat in a drunken stupor, but given the culprit fled during the night by shimmying down a drainpipe, it was a question they would have to ask him later.

“That little prick came in like a fucking wrecking ball.” McMahon said to Franky.

“That’s not mine...” Franky was quick to retaliate.

_“What’s not yours?”_

“... except maybe the handcuffs.”

_“Handcuffs? Franky, are you in some sort of trouble?”_ Bridget asked anxiously.

Franky finally realised Bridget was on the line. “What? No, Gidge. Everything’s fine, except I need to borrow your black jacket, ‘cause mine has a... er... a stain on it. Can you bring it with you to Montsalvat? Thanks, Gidge, you’re a star.” Franky hung up before Bridget could ask any questions.

At that point, something greasy and sloppy peeled away from the ceiling and dropped on the back of Franky’s white blouse. McMahon squirmed as he lifted the slice of leftover pizza from Franky’s back, leaving a large tomato stain in its place.

“Oh, fuck! This day just keeps getting better! Do you think we can get that thing down?” Franky indicated upwards to the rubber dolly. “I gonna need those handcuffs later.”

“I really don’t want to hear about your kinky love life, Franky.”

“No, l’m talking about what l’m going to do to my soon to be deceased, future brother-in-law.”

“In that case, as best man it will be my absolute pleasure to assist in any way possible. Now go and finish getting ready.” McMahon fetched a broom from the kitchen and used the brush end to dislodge the doll. “These are my handcuffs! How did you end up with them?”

“Ask Erica,” Franky called out.

McMahon pocketed the handcuffs. “I got into a lot of trouble for losing these. Had to fill out a shitload of paperwork.”

There was a loud thumping at the door. _“Hey, puttana! Open up!”_

“l’ll get it,” McMahon said, as he rushed over to open the door. A tall, menacing-looking woman with long dark hair stood before him.

Before McMahon said anything, the woman reached out and grabbed him by his black tie, fist raised, ready to smash him to a pulp. “Who the fuck are you?” She growled.

“Booms?”

“Franky?” Boomer pushed McMahon on his arse and stepped over him, picking Franky up and enveloping her in a near-suffocating bear hug.

Franky managed a laugh despite feeling like she was having the life squeezed out of her. “Put me down, Booms, I can barely breathe!”

“Shit, it’s good to see ya, Franky!”

“It’s good to see you, but what are you doing here? You didn’t escape, did you?”

“Nah, been behaving meself, aye? Those wankers on the parole board granted me an early release and I’ve come straight from Wentworth.” Boomer pointed towards McMahon. “Who’s this knobhead?”

“Cool it, Booms. This is McMahon, and he’s a good mate of mine.” Franky noticed the look of confusion etched upon Boomer's face. “But you’ll always be my wingman.”

Boomer immediately perked up at the compliment. “I thought you was shacking up with Davo?”

“I still am, only today we’re getting married.”

“No shit, aye?”

“No shit. How would you like to be my Maid of Honour?”

Boomer glanced around at the filthy apartment. “I dunno, Franky, I’m no good at cleanin’.”

“No, you big doofus!” Franky laughed. “Given you’re my bestie, I want you to stand alongside me when I marry Erica.”

“What, to ensure you don’t chicken out or somethin’?”

“Yeah, something like that. What do you say?”

“Fuckin’ oath, I will!”

McMahon stepped forward, straightening his tie. “I hate to break up this happy reunion, but we’d better get going, given the wedding starts in less than an hour.”

They headed down to the car park, hoping Erica’s car was still there. With an inebriated Marty still on the loose, anything was possible. The relief of seeing the car was short lived as Marty had used his creative flair to decorate the entire car in an assortment of colourful fresh flowers, with only the windows and tyres left untouched.

“Where did he get all those flowers from? It would have costed him a small fortune!” McMahon exclaimed.

“It’s Marty. I’d say half the local neighbourhood are missing flowers from their gardens.”

“He did all this in one night? That guy’s like a category five cyclone! Please tell me Erica will kill him?” McMahon pleaded.

“Nah, better. She’ll torture him first. Then she’ll kill him. Slowly. Then she’ll revive him just so she can kill him again,” Franky said, through gritted teeth.

“Who’s Marty, Franky? You want me to go _bunta_ on him?”

“Awfully tempting, Boomer, but given he’s Erica’s brother, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Give me the keys, l’ll drive,” McMahon said, as he got in the car and turned the ignition. A loud bang and smoke came out from under the bonnet, and they all got out to investigate.

“l’m good at this sort of shit,” Boomer offered, as she tinkered with the engine for a few minutes before Franky finally ran out of patience.

“What’s the verdict?”

Boomer wiped her greasy hands on her red tracksuit pants. “Afraid we’re not going anywhere in this shit heap.”

“Stupid piece of imported crap!” Franky kicked the car tyre hard, out of frustration. “Ah, fuck! My foot!” Boomer laughed at Franky as she hopped around on the spot.

“Feel better?” McMahon asked.

“Not even close. How are we going to get there?” Panic rising in her voice once more. “I hardly think my motorbike will carry three people.”

“I can hot-wire one of the parked cars in the street,” Boomer suggested.

“Good one, Booms. You’ll be back inside Wentworth in time for dinner.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Boomer eyed off McMahon suspiciously. “What are you, a pig or somethin’?”

“Ex pig, actually.”

“No shit, aye? Well, fuck me.”

“As for you, Franky, you’re doing an excellent job of losing your shit today. Get it together.”

“How can I when l’m supposed to be getting married, and we’re stuck here? Erica will probably think l’ve ditched her at the altar!”

“Calm down, Erica will just think you’re running late. Let me call one of my mates.”

“But...”

McMahon pulled out his mobile. “Trust me, l’ll get your sorry arse there.”

“Okay, but I need to make a slight detour on the way to Montsalvat, and besides, we need to buy Boomer a more appropriate outfit.”

“What’s wrong with the way l’m dressed?”

McMahon threw his hands up in defeat. “I don't get it. A moment ago you were concerned you’d be late.”

“Yeah I know, but all this mess with Marty has made me realise there is something important I need to do first.”

“More important than getting married?”

“Not quite, but some things really can’t wait.”

**** **** ****

“She’s just running late, Erica. She’ll be here soon.” Bridget hoped. Franky should have arrived over an hour ago.

“I know. It’s just that...”

“Franky has a habit of getting herself into mischief?” Bridget finished the sentence.

Erica gave an uneasy laugh. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

“Absolutely. You’re playing the role of the nervous bride-to-be to perfection. Look, Franky wouldn’t miss this for the world, even if it means turning up with half of the police force chasing after her, she’ll be here.”

Erica raised both eyebrows. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Relax, McMahon is with her. What could possibly go wrong?” She handed Erica a hip flask. “Here, I suspected you would need this to help calm the nerves. Now refreshen your makeup, and l’ll see what’s keeping Franky.” She grabbed Franky’s jacket and headed down to the front entrance of the property where Marty was standing around, smoking and talking on his mobile.

“Anything?” She asked as soon as he hung up.

“They should be here any minute. Said they ran into an old friend, then got into a spot of trouble and had to find another mode of transport and...” The loud wailing of a siren interrupted him as a police car speed towards them and pulled up at the curb.

“Bloody hell, Franky,” Bridget muttered to herself. “What have you done?” She now regretted handing her flask to Erica and turned her attention to Marty. “Is that...?”

Marty nodded. “For medicinal purposes only. Or so I keep lying to myself.”

“May I?” She snatched the joint off Marty before he could object, and inhaled deeply, before handing it back to him again.

The back door to the police car swung open, and Franky, along with McMahon and Boomer, stepped out onto the pavement looking a little dishevelled from their earlier ordeal.

“Thanks for the lift, boys!” Franky quipped, as she tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her newly bought red blouse.

“I can’t believe you’re making me wear a dress,” Boomer complained. “You’re not wearing a dress, so why should I?”

“Outstanding!” Marty saluted the police in admiration, as he continued to smoke his joint in front of them. Once again he avoided being arrested due to McMahon’s presence.

Bridget rushed over and handed Franky her jacket. “Here, put this on.”

“Heya, Miss Westfall!” Boomer waved at her.

“Boomer?” Bridget had since left Wentworth to open her own practice and looked to Franky for answers. “Please tell me she didn’t escape?”

“Sure did. It was the only way she could attend the wedding,” Franky joked. “Seriously though, with an arrival like that, you thought the police arrested me, didn’t you?” She winked at Bridget.

“All I can say is thank God, Erica didn’t see your grand entrance.”

“It’s okay, Bridget,” Marty said, as he held up his mobile. “I’ve got it all on video.”

Franky straightened her jacket. “How do I look, Gidge?”

“Beautiful. Just let me fix your collar. Nervous?”

“Absolutely shitting myself. Listen, Gidge, thanks for being here to support me. It can’t be easy on you.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Besides, someone has to ensure you go through with this.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Westfall,” Boomer said, as she cracked the knuckles of her right fist. “l’ll make sure Franky doesn’t chicken out.”

“Hey, show a little faith in... what the fuck?” Franky jumped in shock, as she quickly undid the buttons and patted down her jacket, extracting the squealing Morticia from her inner pocket. “I believe this buck-toothed hitchhiker belongs to you, Gidget,” she said as she handed the ferret over. “Okay, then. Let’s get this show on the road!” Franky clapped her hands together. “I have a wedding to attend to, and a beautiful wife-to-be to make love to, later on tonight. C’mon Booms, let’s go!”

“G’day, spunk!” Boomer pinched Marty hard on the arse, before following Franky up the gravel driveway towards the old bluestone chapel.

“What the?” Marty rubbed his arse, wondering what had just happened.

“What am I going to do with her?” Bridget asked.

“Who? Franky or the ferret?” McMahon chipped in.

“Morticia must have snuck into the pocket when I draped the jacket over the back of the armchair this morning.”

“May I?” Marty interrupted, as he placed Morticia on his shoulder.

“Well, at least you two colour coordinate well.”

“It’s not the suit which makes the man, Bridget, but the accessories.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Erica? Given you’re walking her down the aisle?”

“Oh shit, yeah! I knew I had forgotten something!”

**** **** ****

Marty waited in the bar area as Erica made a couple of last-minute adjustments with the help of her mother in the bridal room. He ignored the expensive French champagne, preferring to sample the imported beers on offer, each time pouring a new bottle into a fresh champagne crystal flute. “And they say I have no class, Morticia.” The ferret was on the bar and paying no attention to Marty, distracted by her own reflection in the mirror.

Marty’s suit was finally taking its toll upon him as he wrestled with the nether regions in his pants, causing him to spill beer down the front of his shirt. “God damn you Erica, for making me wear this piece of itchy shit. I hope your frilly knickers ride up your arse crack.” He chuckled to himself and looked at the now empty glass. “Waste of a good beer, too.”

“A bit of vinegar and detergent will get that stain out.”

Marty gasped at the sound of the older, but familiar voice, too shocked to return a formal greeting. “I... I thought you weren’t coming.”

It had been nearly fifteen years since they had last seen one another, but Marty was still taken aback by how much his father had aged during that time. Despite his advanced years, Collin still looked dapper in his immaculately pressed black tuxedo, red tie and cummerbund, glossy black top hat and white gloves.

“I wasn’t going to, but an extraordinary young lady with the wisdom and maturity far beyond her years, made me see common sense on several issues.”

“Yeah? I’d like to meet this immortal Goddess capable of changing your mind.”

Collin ignored the jibe. “May I?” He selected a champagne flute from the bar and held it out to be filled.

“It’s beer, but I can get you a champagne.”

“No, beer will suffice. Just don’t tell your mother.”

Marty shifted uncomfortably in his tuxedo again.

“They are bloody uncomfortable to wear, aren’t they?” Collin sympathised. “I hate them too, but your mother insists I look the part.”

There was a long awkward silence until Marty could no longer bite his tongue. “Erica cried for a week, when you declined her offer to walk her down the aisle. It was a really shitty thing for you to do.”

“I know that now. Franky confronted me and pointed out a few home truths about the importance of family.”

“Franky?” Marty asked in disbelief. “When?”

“This morning. Actually, I’m the reason she’s late for her own wedding.”

“Yeah, she’s something special.”

“I can’t even fathom how she’s remained level-headed, despite her upbringing. She made me realise how fortunate I am to have children who love me and how easy it is to lose everything in an instant, when it doesn’t have to be that way. And it all starts with me. I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you, Martin. I should have let you be your own man without any attached conditions.”

“What about Erica? She spent her whole life trying to live up to your impossibly high standards and yet you discarded her over her sexual preferences.”

“I wrongfully assumed I knew what was best for my daughter - for all my children. I just wanted you all to have the opportunities that I never had when I was growing up.”

“Except love and encouragement. That’s what children crave, even if they don’t appreciate it at the time.”

“Yes, and I’ve failed all of you. But as of now, I want to be the father I should have been.” Collin held out his hand. “Can you ever forgive this stupid old man?”

“Small steps, Dad.” Marty put his empty champagne glass on the bar and placed Morticia upon his shoulder, ignoring Collin’s outstretched hand.

“That’s more than I deserve. Your mother and I would like for you to join us for dinner when Erica and Franky get back from their honeymoon. It’s been far too long since we’ve had the whole family together.”

“I think I’d like that, but only if you call me Marty and don’t expect me to wear a tux.”

**** **** ****

“What’s taking Erica so long?” Franky asked McMahon who was standing beside her at the altar. “Maybe I shouldn’t have taken that detour.”

“Play fair, Franky. After all, you made her wait, and for what it’s worth, I think it was very noble what you did. Erica will appreciate the gesture, no matter the outcome.”

“It’s not her l’m worried about. What if I misjudged her old man?”

“Hey, mind if I crash the wedding party?” Marty said as he joined Franky, McMahon and Boomer.

“You haven’t upset your sister, again?” McMahon asked.

“Not yet, but the day is still young.”

“Plenty of room, Marty,” Franky offered, relieved that her gamble had paid off. She stole a quick glance at her father who sat in a wheelchair in the front row. Mrs Davidson kept him company and sat beside him along with her older sons, William and Benjamin and their families. The brain damage had taken its toll upon Alan, and although he could barely speak, Franky could tell by the enormous smile on his face that he was immensely proud of her.

“I love you, Dad,” she mouthed the words to him, and with great effort, Alan gave her a thumbs up.

“Oi, Franky, what’s up with this kid? She won’t let go of me.” Tess had wrapped both her arms tightly around Boomer’s left leg, looking up at her in admiration. “She keeps calling me a princess and asking me to show her where I buried the dragon. What does she mean?”

“Hey, kiddo, come over here.” Tess reluctantly released Boomer and dawdled over to where Franky was now crouching down. “Leave the princess alone, Tess,” Franky whispered. “She’s taking a holiday from hunting dragons.”

“But she’s real, Franky! That means the story you told me is real!”

“Yeah, she’s real, and I promise l’ll let you annoy Boomer later, but right now I need to know if you still have the rings? Because l’m hopeless at that sort of thing and l’m relying on you to keep them safe.”

Tess nodded excitedly, and pulled the rings out of her pocket, proudly displaying them in her palm, before putting them back in her pocket again. She then gasped and pointed. “Look, Franky! Erica’s a princess, too!”

The music started, and Franky stood up to see her beautiful bride walk down the aisle, alongside her father, Collin, with Bridget following at the rear. Unable to take her eyes off Erica, her long blonde hair was loosely curled, and cascading over her bare shoulders and the white off the shoulders, figure-hugging full-length dress with all its intricate beading.

“Yes, she’s my beautiful princess.”

Erica arrived at the altar and Collin kissed her lightly on her forehead, before placing her hand into Franky’s. “Look after my little girl, Franky. Erica couldn’t have picked a better partner to spend the rest of her life, with.”

“Thanks, Mr D.”

Franky was transfixed at the woman who was about to become her wife, until Erica spoke up and broke her trance.

“Are you checking me out, Franky?”

“Always.”

“And what do you think?”

“Hmmm, I’m thinking how best to get that dress off you later, without tearing it to shreds.”

The celebrant now stood before the bridal party and called for everyone to take their seats.

Erica leant over and whispered in Franky’s ear: “If it helps, this time l’m not wearing any underwear.”

The delicious thought which crossed Franky’s mind caused her to cough and splutter until McMahon slapped her hard on the back a few times.

“Are you okay, Franky?” McMahon asked her. “Not getting cold feet now?”

“Trust me, that’s the least of my concerns.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the celebrant began. “We are gathered here today...”

**** **** ****

The reception was held in The Great Hall, a double storey German-inspired mansion with tudor windows, and was nestled amongst the tall pine trees within the grounds of the country estate of Montsalvat. Walking through the large wrought iron and wooden door, wedding guests were greeted with a medieval-inspired interior with its limestone walls, dark grey stone flooring and seven long wooden tables set with white table clothes, silverware and matching silver candelabras. The dim light cast from the overhead chandeliers, along with the large open fireplace set in a stone chimney, added to the Great Hall's warmth and charm.

After the feast, most of the guests were up dancing, except Marty who was content to sit alone and watch the action from the bridal table. He was totally unaware he was being observed by both Franky and Boomer from the other side of the room.

“That Marty is a total dish which I would love to lick clean.”

“Boomer! Let me guess - you're horny?”

“As a toad! It’s been forever since l’ve had any real action.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Erica has denied me sex for a week. Reckon that’s grounds for a divorce?” Boomer wasn’t listening and Franky couldn’t resist the urge to seek her revenge upon Marty, nudging her in the ribcage. “Go on then, ask him for a dance.”

“You reckon?”

“What have you got to lose?” Boomer was hesitant at first until she spotted a blonde lady heading over towards Marty. “Quick, Booms, get your arse over there and whatever happens, don’t take no for an answer!”

“Hi, l’m Bernadette. Would you like to dance?”

Marty cut her off. “l’m sorry, but this chicken doesn’t dance.”

Before she could try to seduce him with her charm, she felt a harsh tap upon her shoulder. It was Boomer.

“You heard him, Goldilocks. N - O spells FUCK OFF!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Go on, piss off before I punch ya tits in!”

Franky laughed as she watched Bernadette make a hasty retreat. _Poor Marty, he doesn’t stand a chance!_

Erica snuck up behind Franky. “What are you up to?”

“Not sure. I’m either matchmaking or torturing your brother.”

“Seems fair. Speaking of which, do we need to return Sue to Wentworth after the reception?”

Franky laughed. “Even if she had escaped, it would be worth harbouring her just to annoy Marty.”

“True. Feel like a dance, my sexy wife?”

“How could I possibly resist?”

As they engaged in a slow dance, Erica noticed her brother was dancing - something which she had never witnessed in her lifetime - although she got the feeling it wasn’t his choice to do so. “I think my little brother wants us to save him from Sue’s evil clutches.”

Franky turned to see Boomer with her arms wrapped around Marty, both her hands clasped tightly on each of his butt cheeks. Marty made eye contact with them both over Boomer’s shoulder and mouthed the words “Please, kill me!”

“After what he did last night? Nope, I say let him suffer. The best scenario is we end up with a new sister-in-law.”

“Uh-oh, is our apartment still intact?”

“McMahon assures me it will be by the time we get back from our honeymoon.”

Erica laughed. “In that case, let him be Sue’s celebratory present from us. I’m only sorry we didn’t get the chance to gift wrap him beforehand.” She wrapped both arms around Franky’s neck and shoulders and kissed her. “Thank you.”

“No idea what you’re talking about, but l’ll take it, anyway.”

“For having the courage to stand up to my father and getting him to come today. He even apologised to Marty.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“He told me you stopped by the family home on the way to Montsalvat. I don’t know what you said to him, but he is now full of glowing admiration for you. Said he’s honoured to have you as part of the Davidson clan.”

“It’s that old Doyle charm. Never fails to reel them in.” Franky stole a quick kiss, placing both her hands on Erica’s arse. “So... not wearing any underwear, huh? Did you think l’d forgotten about that tease at the altar? I’m so horny you were lucky I didn’t take you there and then!” She held Erica by the hand, leading her towards the unattended bridal room.

Erica quickly looked around. “Franky! What about our guests?”

“Nah, I just want you.”

Erica blushed. “That’s not what I meant!”

“I’m sure they can entertain themselves for half an hour whilst we consummate our marriage.”

“Only half an hour?”

“Consider it an appetiser.” Franky locked the door behind her. “As much as I love that dress on you, its one fault is it should have been better flared at the bottom to allow me easier access.”

“I may be able to arrange that, as long as you do as I tell you.”

“My, you’re bossy when you’re about to have sex. Think I can have a turn later?”

“I’ll think about it. Kneel on one knee,” Erica commanded. Franky scoffed as she knelt on the floorboards. Lifting her dress as high as it could go, Erica bent her left leg, resting the flat of her stiletto on top of Franky’s bended knee. She slowly pulled the invisible zip upwards - which was concealed within the seam of the material up the left side of her dress - all the way to her hip. Lastly, she flipped the front flap of the dress over to rest on her right hip, revealing a white garter belt with suspenders and white fishnet stockings, giving Franky an uninterrupted front-on view of her exposed pussy. “Is this better?”

Franky licked her lips. “Much, much better! I feel I should warn you though, we’re going to be here longer than half an hour.” She lifted Erica’s foot out of its stiletto and discarded the shoe over her shoulder, unclasping the suspenders holding the stocking in place and carefully rolling the delicate material down Erica’s smooth leg. Erica switched legs, and Franky stripped her of her other stiletto and stocking. “I’ll put these to good use later on tonight.” She stuffed both stockings between her own cleavage and leaned in between Erica’s legs, blowing lightly on the nub and licking the folds several times with the tip of her tongue. Erica moaned, pushing Franky’s head deeper into her pussy, but Franky quickly pulled away and stood up. “Not yet, my lovely bride.”

Erica impatiently tugged at the zip of Franky’s pants until her hands were slapped away. “Patience, my little nymph!” Franky scooped Erica up in both arms and laid her upon the nearby antique chaise longue.

Erica leaned back into the nook of the armrest, and hooked her left leg over the back of the chaise, leaving her right foot planted firmly on the floor.

Franky stood before her. “I could stand here all day admiring this exquisite view.”

“You’re such a tease. Don’t force me to take matters into my own hands.”

“I’m a tease? Who was it who sent me naked photos, and all those whisperings of suggestive and lewd comments? Maybe as a punishment, I should make you wait until later tonight.”

“That won’t happen.”

“You know this for a fact, do you?”

Erica nodded and unclasped the top half of her dress to expose her bare breasts. Sucking seductively on two of her own fingers, she shot Franky a sexy, sultry look, before reaching down and inserting the fingers inside herself, pumping vigorously.

The sight of Erica masturbating before her nearly tipped Franky over the edge. “You’re right, it won’t happen, and don’t even think of coming without me.” Franky pulled Erica’s hand out and held it up to her own nose, deeply inhaling the aroma of her wife’s arousal.

“Sharing is caring,” Erica begged.

“Not this time!” Franky gave a cheeky laugh as she licked all the juices clean off Erica’s fingers, the taste getting her even more aroused. “Fuck! I can’t take this any longer!” She held both Erica’s ankles and pulled her down into a more comfortable position on the chaise, then fumbled with her own blouse, as she tried to undo the buttons. Erica reached out to help, only to have her hands slapped away for a second time. “No, you don’t! I need this shirt intact - at least for now.” She quickly disposed of her pants and underwear, and positioned herself on top of Erica, who immediately clenched her thighs tightly around Franky’s waist.

Franky placed both hands against Erica’s arse, bringing her in tight; tribbing against each other at a frantic pace, causing the chaise to move back and forth, scratching the polished floorboards with each thrust. Erica threw her hand out to anchor them both in place by holding onto the back of the chaise, but lost her grip, causing them both to roll off and onto the floor. The accidental intermission gave Franky the time and room required to switch ends, resting her pussy on Erica’s face, as she went down and indulged in Erica’s delights. Franky was the first to come, with Erica’s orgasm brought on moments later, after hearing her wife’s screams.

McMahon coughed loudly from the other side of the door. _“Hey, Franky? I thought I heard someone screaming. Is everything okay in there?”_

“Yeah,” Franky lifted herself up and looked down at Erica who was still lying on the ground, panting heavily. She couldn’t help but laugh at her wife’s messy hairdo. “Just helping Erica restyle her hair.”

_“Er, okay. When you’ve finished having sex, you and Erica may want to join us in The Great Hall to cut the cake.”_

Franky helped Erica to her feet. “I’ll need my stockings back,” Erica said as she fetched her stilettos out from behind a pot plant.

“You’ll get them back when I tie you to the bed, later. Hopefully, you’ve saved some of that energy, cause I promise there will be no sleep for either of us.”

“We have a whole month to ourselves to do whatever we want.”

“Good point. Remind me to pick up several pairs of stockings before we leave for our honeymoon, in case we destroy this pair, tonight.”

Minutes later, Erica and Franky entered The Great Hall to a mixture of wolf-whistles and guests raising champagne flutes in their honour.

“You don’t think McMahon told them?” Erica asked.

“Who cares? Bask in their envy.”

They stood behind the table, poised to cut into the wedding cake, when Morticia chose that exact moment to leap off a high window ledge, glide over Franky’s right shoulder and dive-bomb into the top of the cake; the sudden jolt causing it to collapse upon the middle and bottom tiers.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Franky shouted, as she instinctively reached forward to catch the heavy cake from toppling off the table, only to fall backwards onto the floor and dropping the cake down the front of her suit. Morticia dug her way out from under the mess and scurried across the dance floor, causing panic amongst the guests when Mrs Davidson screamed out that there was a huge furry rat on the loose.

Erica held out her hand, laughing hysterically at the comical scene surrounding her.

“Do you think this is funny?” Franky asked, as she lay on the floor covered in cake.

“Absolutely! First the Christmas tree, and now the wedding cake. You seem to enjoy dropping things on top of yourself.”

Franky pulled Erica down on her, the white wedding gown now a marbled combination of white ganache and dark chocolate mud cake, and kissed her. “There’s only one thing I enjoy on top of me.”

**** **** ****

Franky stepped out of the bridal room twenty minutes later dressed casually in black jeans and t-shirt, relieved to ditch the suit. “I swear, Morticia did me a huge favour.” She spotted Bridget amongst the crowd forming outside to prepare for the farewell.

“Hey Gidge, got a minute?”

“Shouldn’t you be heading off soon?”

“Erica’s still changing and getting the cake out of her hair.” She handed Bridget a plastic bag with the filthy jacket. “Sorry about your jacket.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your wedding. Morticia saw the cake and must have thought all her Christmases had come at once.”

“Nah, all good. I’ve finally gotten used to having the furry critters around. Besides, the best part was when Boomer took it upon herself to jump into Marty’s arms pretending to be scared, only to have the chair collapse from under them. I’m still laughing at the sight of Boomer landing on top of him with her legs parted over his face! She even thanked me afterwards for making her wear a dress.”

“It’s certainly been a wedding to remember.”

“Listen, in case I don’t see you before I leave, I want you to know that I will always love you.” Franky held her tightly in her arms. “You mean the world to me and I couldn’t have made it without you.”

“Always be happy, Franky. That’s my one wish for you in life.”

“My one wish is we’ll always be here for each other.”

Boomer limped over awkwardly due to Tess reattaching herself to Boomer's left leg. “Hey Franky, you can have Tess back now.” She shook her own leg until the little girl let go and fell to the ground.

Franky knelt down so she was eye level with Tess. “Are you going to behave for Aunty Bridget for the next month?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, or you can’t play with Gomez and Morticia.”

“Resorting to blackmail, now?” Bridget laughed. “She’ll be fine, Franky. We’ll have lots of fun, won’t we Tess?”

“Can Princess Boomer come too?”

“Nah, I gotta sort out me slag of a sister for stealing Daz away from me.”

“Can I help you sort out your slag of a sister?” Tess pleaded.

Boomer realised she had sworn in front of Tess. “Shit, sorry Franky, for the swearin’.”

Franky put her arm around Boomer’s shoulder. “Booms, you know I love you, and l’ll support you in almost anything you do, right? But you have to let them both go. It’s not worth another stint inside.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Hey Tess, maybe me and you can go to Luna Park next week, aye? I love the Scenic Railway! It’s got a cool looking dragon-shaped head on the front carriage...”

“Dragons!” Tess shouted with excitement.

“... and there's the best ice cream shop nearby!”

“Can we sing the new song you taught me?” Before Boomer could object, Tess burst into the popular tune:

_The wheels on the bus go round and round,_

_Round and round,_

_Round and round._

_The wheels on the bus go round and round,_

_All the way to prison._

“Booms!” Franky exclaimed.

“I swear I didn’t teach her that, Franks!” Boomer poked her tongue out at Tess. “You don’t dog on ya mates.”

Erica approached the group. “Sorry to interrupt, but do you have the keys to the car, Franky?”

“I just remembered... we have no wheels to make our escape!”

“What’s happened to my car?”

“It’s er... temporarily decommissioned and redecorated.”

“What’s that knucklehead done now?”

“Best ask Marty.” Franky chuckled. “I don’t suppose anyone here can give us a lift to the hotel?”

A tall girl which neither Franky nor Erica had ever seen before, offered her keys. “Here, take my ride.”

“That’s very generous of you, but you don’t even know us.”

“I will, soon enough. It’s the bike over there.”

Franky strolled over with Erica in tow and slowly walked around the black and burgundy bike admiring its fine quality workmanship before mounting and letting her arse rest comfortably in its leathered seat. “Very nice! A Triumph!”

McMahon ventured over with Marty. “It’s a 2013 Thunderbird, and if you dent it, don’t bother coming home again.”

“It’s not as good as a Harley Davidson, though,” Marty declared.

“That’s true.” Franky put her arm around Erica’s waist and pulled her in close. “I ride a Davidson all the time!”

Erica sighted Bridget over Franky’s shoulder, who was rolling her eyes and laughing at Franky’s crude comment.

“And you have her purring like a kitten. Right, baby?”

Franky laughed. “That’s because I service her regularly! Finish your goodbyes, then climb on and hold on tight.”

“Throw the bouquet first, Erica!” Mrs Davidson shouted.

Erica threw the bouquet over her right shoulder, bouncing off McMahon’s head and into the palms of his hands. Marty, who was standing alongside him, took a large step back. “No offence, sweetie pie, but you’re not my type!”

A lady with the mousse-coloured hair smiled at McMahon. “Go on, Romeo,” Marty pushed McMahon in the small of his back. “Give her the flowers. Chicks dig that sort of shit!”

McMahon walked awkwardly over to her. “Um... here you go. They are almost as pretty as you are.”

She smiled shyly back at him. “Thank you.”

Captivated by her smile, McMahon suddenly remembered who he was and quickly turned on his heel, rejoining Marty.

“She’s hot!” Marty said. “Did you ask her out? ‘Cause if you don’t, I will!”

McMahon stared him down. “If you dare approach her, l’ll set Boomer on to you.”

Franky noticed her father sitting near the flowerbeds, away from the main crowd and pushed her way through. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight, and even though no words were exchanged, the gesture spoke louder than any words.

Erica had finally finished saying goodbye to everyone, and threw her leg over the back of the motorbike, wrapping her arms around Franky’s waist tightly, as per her earlier instructions.

“Um... Erica, must you hold on like that?”

“You said hold on tight.”

“You have your arms wrapped around my waist with your hands down my pants.”

“Do I?” Erica feinted innocence, not bothering to remove her hands. She leaned in and whispered in Franky’s ear, “I expect another one of your famous bedtime stories, later.”

Frankly swallowed hard. “Dear Lord, I’ve created a nymphomaniac! If I don’t make it through the night, know that I died a deliriously happy woman!” She revved the bike several times. “Hi-ho, Silver! Away!“

Bridget reflected in her own thoughts as she watched Franky and Erica leave the property. It had been a long and arduous journey for Franky, and she was honoured to have played an important role in her life. She had always held on to the slim hope that someday they could reunite as a couple, but deep down, she knew that could never eventuate. It was time to move on with her own life and finally let Franky go.

Tess tugged at Bridget’s dress. “Aunty Bridget? Why are you crying?”

“I’m crying because l’m happy to be here to see Franky and Erica finally get married.”

“I hope you get married one day so I can look after the rings.”

Bridget smiled. “So do I, honey.”

“When we get to your house, can I play with Gomez and Morticia?”

“You’ll have a month to play with them. Which reminds me, I need to collect Morticia before we leave.” Bridget held Tess’ hand, and turned to leave, accidentally knocking a guest to the ground. “I’m terribly sorry.” Bridget held out her other hand for assistance.

The stunning lady with long black hair and milky white skin accepted Bridget’s offer to help her up again. “No harm done,” she said, as she dusted herself off.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll survive. From what I hear, l’m amazed the bridal party survived the wedding! Where are Erica and Franky going for their honeymoon?”

“They have hired a yacht to sail around the Greek Islands.”

“How romantic.”

“It was a promise Erica made to Franky when they were first reunited a year ago. The yacht idea, came later.”

“They seem so perfect for each other.”

“They do, don’t they?” Bridget agreed.

“I hope l’m fortunate to find Mrs Right some day.”

“Oh? Are you a friend of Franky or Erica’s?”

“Actually, neither. My brother called me about an hour ago and asked me to pick him up. That’s now backfired, given l’ve just lent Franky my bike.”

“That was you? You’re game, considering you don’t know Franky.” Bridget laughed.

“Maybe, but I figured if she so much as puts one tiny dent in it, l’ll send Lachlan to hunt her down.”

The realisation dawned upon Bridget. “You’re McMahon’s younger sister, Sarah?”

“Yes, but only if he’s said good things about me. You must be Bridget.”

“Good guess.”

“Not really. Lachlan’s told me a lot about you. Said even though you’re a psychologist, you’re a good friend, and a good catch, if I know what’s good for me.”

“Did he, now? I never pegged him for a matchmaker.” Bridget laughed. “Would you both like a lift home?”

“I was going to catch a taxi with Lachlan, but if you’re offering, then yes, we’d love one.”

McMahon stepped in at that point, looking impressed. “Hey, Bridge, I see you’ve met my sister.”

“She’s nothing like you, McMahon. Kind, funny, and a lot easier on the eye, too.”

“Lachlan, Bridget has kindly offered to drive us both home.”

“Yeah, look thanks for the offer Bridget, but... er, something’s come up and... er... l’m going... elsewhere.” He knew how pathetic his excuse sounded. “I’ll just take a taxi, but if you can take Sarah home, that would be appreciated… if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, McMahon.”

“Right, then. Er, I’ll drop by tomorrow at 8am, Sarah, so we can pick up your bike from Franky and Erica’s hotel.” He quickly kissed both ladies goodbye, as he spotted Marty walking past on his own. “Hey, Marty, wait up! Still feel like hitting a bar?”

“What are you talking about?” Marty asked.

“You know, what we discussed earlier.” McMahon winked.

“Oh, right.” Marty finally twigged. “What’s that you say? You’re buying? That’s very generous of you, McMahon!” He slapped McMahon on the back. “Did you end up getting that hot chick’s number?”

“Amelia came up to me and gave me her details,” he mumbled awkwardly.

“Cause dear Amelia would have died of old age waiting for you to make the first move. Right, you big stud?”

From his jacket pocket, McMahon extracted the handcuffs which he’d procured from the blow-up doll earlier. “You’re edging closer to being arrested, Davidson. By the way, how the hell did you attach that rubber doll to that light fitting?”

“It was impressive, wasn’t it? It’s simple really. You start by doing...” Marty’s voice trailed off as they walked further down the gravelled driveway towards the front gate.

“Was McMahon blushing when you told him l’d offered you both a lift home?” Bridget asked.

“Oh, yeah. My brother’s emotional range is virtually non-existent, but when it surfaces, it’s always obvious!” Sarah laughed.

“He’s a terrible liar, too,” Bridget chipped in.

“Lachlan told me he owes you a decent coffee. I know of a local place not too far from here which serves the best brew. My treat.”

“Hey, Bridge!” Marty ran up to her, puffing. “I almost forgot about Morticia,” he placed the ferret in Bridget’s hands. “Aw, crap, look out! Incoming! See ya!”

Moments later, Boomer ran past. “Oi, Marty! Wait up!”

Sarah’s eyes widened with curiosity. “What’s that?”

Bridget laughed, and handed Morticia over to Tess. “Tell me, Sarah, do you like ferrets?”

“Er, I think so. My son would, no doubt. Why?”

“In that case, I would love to join you for a coffee.”

** _\- GAME OVER -_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming along and completing Franky and Erica’s journey with me. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I’ve had fun writing their story. Let me know what you think! Now go and check out the gorgeous Montsalvat (yes, it’s real!) where Marty did his Artist in Residence Program and where Franky and Erica were married: 
> 
> www.montsalvat.com.au
> 
> Coming soon: My first ever Fridget fic. Will it be an unpredictable, action-packed, plot twisting and nail-biting adventure for Franky and Bridget? You’ll have to wait and see!
> 
> Expect the unexpected.
> 
> The_Fifth_Marauder


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